High Matron Etyl Za'Darmondiel.
8th of Quartutus, 1942.
23:19
***
After overseeing Amun's corrective training, I followed him throughout his march as many others did. I both saw and felt their eyes studying the marching ranks and files of the undead, multiplied by his every kill. I could hear their dripping and throbbing loins as they gazed upon his undying grace, spreading violence and chaos so effortlessly through these Halls. I could smell both the fear of his foes and the glee of our Goddess, most high.
We all marched alongside him for two days. But only my eyes were cunning enough to look past the veil to try and discern what this creature was; other than a Living Lich of the Nox.
Other than Elg-Horr.
It began with his punishment for using magic when faced with the minotaur. Knowing his perks- knowing his lineage, I ensured they showed him no mercy.
He was beaten with adamantine clubs, bloodied with mithral torture devices, and bruised by the fists of our giant slaves. Arcane pins were pressed into his spine, his joints were crushed in vices, and a scimitar slid through his neck, releasing a crimson veil that released the necrotic fire at last; ending his punishment and beginning his march.
That was not a result of his divinity but that of his birthright. Only a child of the Nox could take such punishment and step away to receive training and drink that disgusting porridge without a sound or grimace. Only a Class given to a child of the Nox would corrupt that porridge with the blue-green fires billowing from his form.
Only a child on the Nox would grow accustomed to an emaciated body shrouded in the fires of deathly ki.
I saw those things, and I ensured every drow in the Halls saw it too. Cunning though my eyes were, however, my eyes saw nothing more before he arrived at the entrance to the meditation chambers. They saw the same as all others once he stepped inside to see a wide cavern filled with subterranean flora, fauna, and ki. His face illuminated like that of a child uneducated in the ways of class.
Only the slightest bit of respect was shown to Abbot Eiriol when she called for him. He faced away from the luminous veins of Eiriol's divine tree and bowed to her.
"You were given those." Eiriol pointed out weakly, motioning to the thumbnail-sized beads wrapped loosely around his wrists. Then gave him a larger set to wrap around his neck as she said. "Tell me of their meaning."
"Ki accumulators." The child said simply.
"A crass summary." She rolled her eyes. "Like mana forming arcana, those beads condense and purify ki before forcing it into your Ki Ponds. Your growth during your absence has seen your Ki become akin to a liquid, making the foundation for the circuit you will form between the first and second ki Ponds. These Focus Chambers are required to form them." She paused, pointing to the object of Amun's earlier interest. The cubes in which they were to breathe for days on end; or whatever nonsense it was that they did.
"You are not to leave your chamber until you complete your circuit. Upon completion, you are to march through the next Hall, the end of which you will find a Meditation Hall, where you will repeat the same process to open your first and second necrotic ki ponds, then open your third and fourth ponds before linking them into a circuit. Once you have reached the end of these Halls, your final ponds will have opened and you can merge the chambers you have created with your lair stone to take with you.
"That… might be a bit of an issue," Amun muttered to himself. Though Eiriol, in her weakness, questioned it not. She simply bowed in response to Amun's gesture and motioned for the head monks to take him to the other chambers. The ones with his… peers.
Remarkable though they were, two of them were human, the other being a bald Felipian. Yet Elg-Horr seemed to treat them with as much reverence as his Troupe. They all huddled around him, exchanging stories and… laughing.
I could not watch such a legendary being engage in such filth so instead I skittered about the chambers to see what insight they'd conjure.
The chamber belonging to the Merciful Monk, Rua Nun, contained a flat stone surrounded by a moat that would splash suddenly and with violence. That Felipian's chamber was dark, save for a sphere of golden light sitting in the corner just before him. Peter's chamber, the most complex of them all, contained a circle of elemental totems that duplicated and fused into each other to form more complex types of elemental ki.
By far, they were the most interesting aspect of this endeavor. That and speculating what would become of the chamber belonging to Elg-Horr. However, I had not the patience to wait for him to emerge.
A simple look was all it took for the monks to guide him to his chamber. He entered without delay, much to my satisfaction. Yet any feelings of purpose were quickly stolen away. It would take time for him to complete this process. Days onto tendays of constant breathing, and much more time to complete the steps. Interestingly, however, his Troupe seemed to understand such things as well. They stepped and sat to lie down on the wall as if they were blessed by the spider without hesitation, relegating themselves to more private things.
I stepped forward, studying each of them on approach. Some, I recognized. The human girl with the eyes of blue and the skirted tunic to match. The Gerdian with her two subordinates. The human twins of Shujen. All, however, were much older, and in some cases, much larger.
I turned to the largest pair first, for they were the most recognizable to us drow. A woman with pale skin, blue-white braids, and vibrant blue eyes and a larger man with tanned skin, flowing black hair and burning red eyes. Both had to be at least two meters in height and dressed in the leathers and furs of those celestial beasts. Both were surrounded by or resting atop similar canines of fire and ice.
"I remember you two." I finally said. "The Tortured Prince and Forsaken Princess of Shujen. I witnessed your curse. He turned you into something feral indeed."
"Some call it a curse." The male shrugged carelessly, grinning all the while. "We call it a blessing."
I hated hearing a man talk to me in such a way, but I held my composure. For now. "Your names," I demanded.
"Geri." The woman said proudly. Followed by the male. "Freki."
"A ranger, I understand." I looked at the strange white and blue beasts surrounding Geri, staring back at me with intelligence. "However," I turned to the other, "a barbarian beloved by the animals so?"
"A Barbarian and a Warlock." He smiled wider, revealing pronounced canines in his oversized maw. "And a Sorcerer."
My head rose and tilted at the word. 'Sorcery? Of course...' Insight gained, I took a deep breath before calmly gesturing to the beasts around them. "And the wolves?"
"Family."
"And you lot." I buried my growing ire to face the girls and the dainty girl in the blue tunic pounced forward with her sickening eagerness. "You are… Iris Cole, are you not?"
"Yup!" Her smile was almost painfully bright. That was the level of exuberant optimism she possessed. Enough to make me nauseous. Yet I overcame it masterfully.
"Hmm." I began to turn away in a snort before I caught sight of a holy pendant dangling from her necklace. It was a wonder I hadn't caught sight of it before, for it was a peculiar blue thing, perfectly smooth despite the screws comprising its clenched teeth, the gears comprising its unblinking eyes, and other such components of that small blue skull, radiant with power.
Focusing my eyes saw the symbol be limned in the same deep blue divine light found within the angular veins on Elg-Horr's temples. A telltale sign to be sure. "You are his cleric."
It was a statement more than a question, and yet... "That I am!" She beamed, and with such suddenness, it forced many hidden drow to gasp in shock. Even for me, it was almost too much to take in. Her sudden declaration. Amun's divine radiance. My son's changes. I could not blame my lessors for their lack of composure.
Our Goddess, Most High, would.
"What is your domain?" I asked, to which she seemed hesitant. "Well?" I leaned forward. "Out with it!"
"Well… I'm sorta like a cleric and a druid."
"You have multiple classes." I huffed. "That is not so rare. How many do you have, Iris?"
"Well, five." She amiably said, tapping her chin without a modicum of respect. Just like her 'father.' "But they're all legendary classes, so."
"What?" I turned on her rapidly and so suddenly it forced another echo of gasps from the shadows, but Iris and the rest of this exotic Troupe paid it little mind.
"Well, I'm not exactly a cleric and a druid," she said. "I'm a Clerical Druid! The two classes fused. I'm the Divine Mother of the Technica Dominion!"
'A Mother of Nature?' I recoiled internally; but again, took no time to gather my wits. "Exquisite!" I exhaled after a short breath cycle. "Do tell me more."
"Sure!" She beamed and turned to yell. "Stein!"
Her call spawned a vortex of blue mana in the space next to her, linking it to some other place to allow a canine with squat, almost dwarven legs to trot out and up to her side.
"Your familiar?" I raised my brow at the exotic surface creature.
"My pet." She corrected before picking the thing up to point at its eye. "Look closely."
Surely, the act of following such an order was beneath me. Thus I let it be known through our silent language that my compliance was of my own volition; and for good reason, for I saw traces of machinery within that creature. Its teeth were of some ceramic material, connected to gums made of some unnatural, magicless material; and its pupils beheld a multitude of tiny lenses that moved and focused on me with the intelligence of a sapient.
My eyes trailed after it once it wriggled out of her arms to run off in the distance. I poured my senses into the ambient mana, to follow it. Yet Iris' voice chased me to the end.
"I'm the Divine Mother of creatures like that. There's an entire food chain. But anyway, all of my classes are legendary. I'm also a Sorcerous Warlock."
Being a warlock and a cleric was not impossible. Such things depended only on the circumstances of one's exchange for power. Power in exchange for unyielding faith made clerics. Power in exchange for an oath of conviction made paladins, deity or not. Power in exchange for one's spirit and, or soul made warlocks. Nothing could stop a deity from giving power to a mortal in exchange for all three.
Lilith, Most High, could easily do so if She wished. But in Her infinite wisdom, She saw fit to make Her Priestesses, High Priestesses, Matrons, and High Matrons more than capable enough to do her bidding. To think Elg-Horr would need such things was… regrettable.
"Well, we're all warlocks." She continued, almost earning me a laugh before her next words caught my attention. "We're all sorcerers and necromancers too. But only some of us are Sorcerous Warlocks. One of them being me."
"N- necromancers?" I asked, cursing myself again for my lack of poise, for I should have known his propensity to give his power away would apply to the Nox's necromancy.
Perhaps their darkness as well.
"I'm Iris Cole!" She beamed simply. "That last name isn't something you get from being adopted, it's the opposite. To be taken into the Royal House of Cole's bloodline, one must adopt their blood."
The silence was long and palpable. But not without meaning, for I studied this Troupe in a new light. Starting with the young Iris Cole. Childish and doll-like. Her skin was impeccably smooth; a light tan like the beach sand of underground lakes.
Her clothes seemed plain sitting atop her frame, if not made from fine materials. A long blue tunic was fastened down with a thick belt boasting a single pouch above her right buttock. Curiously though, while the tunic had sleeves, she saw fit to fasten white silken sleeves to her forearms to leave its flowing ribbons and tassels trailing behind her akin to a cleric's robe. White pants and ankle-high boots of polished brown hide covered her lower portion while her head was adorned with a tiara and an earring that positively radiated with arcane and divine energies.
The next lot was the same. Blude and her two followers- now standing before many more. She grew taller and slimmer since she was last here, forming a fine physique that would surely please many men or women in a few years. If they weren't subdued by the coldness in her gaze, they would be subdued by the regal demeanor in which she and her group carried themselves.
They dressed the most elegantly of all of them. Polished shoes sat partially hidden beneath fitted slacks dyed slate black. Coats of a similar hue covered their tops, hemmed short on the bottoms to end at the lower hips, and left long on the sleeves to cover the wrists. They boasted buttons amidst the belly to reveal dissimilarly colored collared shirts bisected down the middle by strips of what appeared to be gilded silk, and each had her version of a crown with the jewelry to match.
"And you?" I asked the crowned woman post-assessment.
Young as she was, she was strong, and in ways that came not from her Gerdian blood. She did not even break eye contact with a blink while she stared for a full second, dragging on her cigarette before finally saying. "You don't remember me, High Matron Etyl? That hurts, you know."
"Of course, Blude." My smile was natural, yet cut short once she reached her hand out in a human greeting. Or so it seemed. As quickly as it extended, her hand retracted to palm her chest while her head lowered. "Pleased to stand before you as the Proprietor of the Grand Hadal Enterprise; and the Prime Matriarch of the Orcinus Mafia."
My smile was natural. "A pleasure."
The small human was their polar opposite. A young male. Slim and big-headed like every wizard in existence, including my second son. If there was any frame to be found, it was hidden beneath a baggy feathered robe; as was he hidden behind a table strewn with alchemical equipment.
Ignoring him, I turned to the others that mattered. If for different reasons.
The species of those two made them apparent. One was granted the malice of everyone nearby, the other was granted their pity, for one was a half-breed surface elf; the other, a halfling.
The halfling's skin was tan but somehow pale or otherwise thin enough to expose her veins, black like her vibrant hair, which was as silky as the black and maroon doublet covering her frame. Many bracelets and rings adorned her little arms and fingers but they were simply baubles and trinkets, save the strange box dangling from her neck. A strange, magical thing she often stroked, thumbed, or blew in to give the Halls a soothingly macabre ambiance.
"A bard." I began, implying for her to pick up a tale of her history. But alas.
"Not quite, my dear High Matron." She sang and throbbed out a tune. "A Bardic Warlock. Patroned to Amun, for my art. In passing, during funerals, that is when my stories are told. Me, Rickley Ravenbrook, Celebrity of Souls."
"Quite the performance," I said, admiring the songs she played throughout her patron's march. But then I turned to the other and felt any sense of admiration fade into the dark.
Rekindling some sense of purpose by studying her visage worked not, for she sat atop her stone, kicking her feet and smiling at everything that met her gaze like an amiable fool. Yet it was her uncanny visage that kept my disgust for her at sneer.
She was like a doll in every sense of the word. An old doll found in a haunted abode. One with disheveled silky hair and the same pale but tanned skin as the halfling. Her lips were cracked and black like bark yet appeared to be glossy and smooth, as was the rough scar around her neck. Covering her fragile frame was a robe and cowl of leaves, feathers, and bones held in place with thorned vines and dry sinew, much like the particularly dreadful bird perched on her shoulder.
"I'm the opposite of Iris. A Druidic Cleric, not a Clerical Druid. My perks manifest like druidic magic, but the effect is like a clerical spell." She creepily said before I could ask, and with such calm, I felt my heart nearly explode; until it shuddered at the sound of her next words.
"As the Divine Mother of the Genetica Dominium, I design and grow my children from flesh."
I knew not what unsettled me more, my ignorance of this… Genetica, the idea of her being a Divine Mother of Nature or the sight of that strange dog of metal trotting back to Iris.
In hindsight, it was surely the latter, for I felt all I was feeling wash away at the sight of that strange creature. It radiated no magic, yet it pinned numerous blades and metallic objects to its back using some type of energy that was soon released.
The echoes of steel on stone pulled every pair of drow eyes with nearly as much strength as my commanding voice. Like me, they watched the creature burrow into the pile with reckless abandon, biting and gnawing on metal like jerky until the pile was diminished, wherein it trotted to Iris to take up a hunched position that was immediately recognizable.
While disgusting, I could not turn away from the crude sight, for I saw traces of silver plop to the ground.
Not silver, I realized. Steel. Steel… stool. Foamy and pliable, even at cool temperatures.
"Good boy!" Iris praised the creature, rubbing its head before she reached for the stool.
Only us drow seemed horrified. The others barely paid attention to her working the steel stool in her hands. "Creatures like Stein are recyclers. In his case, he eats and poops metal." Iris finally and childishly explained after molding the stool into the shape of a dagger. "Well, he eats metal. He poops this stuff." She waved the thing in the air. "I call it metallic clay."
Saying nothing more, she went over to the robed human male. "Wilson-"
"I am not your walking forge, Iris." He said dryly, and without looking up from his table. "We've been over this fourteen times now."
"Awe!" She tutted and turned in the same breath, shouting. "Hey, Freki!"
The area burst into movement. An impressively quick swipe of Freki's arm conjured a sphere of burning vines that was immediately smacked to bits by Geri, who shouted, "Get that shit outta here!"
I watched in bemusement as Iris, saying nothing, crouched low to gather what remained of the burning vines, forming a pile over her metal clay before she deeply inhaled. Only to be cut off by a groan.
"Iris!"
Both she and I turned to Freki, becking her to a massive spectral claw made of the same burning vines as before.
My eyes widened as she stuck her arms inside the conflagration without flinching. Regrettably, however, the pain of light and heat intensified all around us, blinding me to what was to come. I almost saw red. But a voice and a glint of silver pulled my wrath under control.
"See!" She held up the dagger, no different from one still hot from the forge.
Shielding my hand with mana, I grabbed her arm and found it to be hot like an iron bar and absurdly dense to boot. Not to mention throbbing with power that came not from magic, much like this creature.
"You are not human," I stated.
"Yes huh! See!" She raised her fist sharply to squeeze mana behind her in such a way that saw the granite walls squeeze a chunk of itself out, sending it flying into her hand. If only for her to bite into it like rock candy. "It's just, none of us are exactly what we seem to be. Just like Stein used to be a normal dog, I used to be a normal human before I was augmented."
'None of us are exactly what we seem to be.' I rose and tilted my head, ensuring Iris and company witnessed my ensuing smile. "I see. And what of my son?"
"Oh," she shrugged. "Only he can answer that."
"Yes, only he can answer that. Of course." I nodded, smiling wider as I turned. "I wonder what answer he has for his dearest mother."