The voice of the announcer boomed through the impossibly cyclopean arena, his voice, deep and telltale, echoing through the entire stadium with the aid of magic. His face was unseen, but it was rather clear that he was of some kind of important status, as he was trusted enough to announce the very names of the highest in status of Abburth, and Arachne lay in wait, standing up straight and holding her chin high to showcase her elderly dominance towards the public, but mainly to her sister, who frequently bragged that she had gotten the "larger side" of the womb due to her larger stature and physique.
Her elbows were intertwined together behind her back as she sported a long purple dress that hugged her waist and opened upon her chest, the skirt itself having spider web like patterns adorning it in a unique fashion, a spider pin holding her hair up in its otherwise smooth and kempt state, unlike how Arachne preferred to wear it, down and loose to conceal her truthful eyes, a fatal flaw in the community of the drow, so instead her black veil hid them from the illumination of her honesty, which she had been told to have been one of the most intimidating sights to most drow men.
"Twin sisters, Arachne Coborial and Chadra Coborial, daughters of Matron Aunerae Coborial, First Matron Mother of Abburth."
Both Arachne and Chadra walked upwards to their shared viewing box, resting on the sanded grounds of the main arena area, perfect for optimal viewing "pleasure." She, as the eldest sister, sat adjacent to Xarann, who sat beside Matron Aunerae, her stomach bloated and large, indicating she was close to her imminent birth. Despite this, applause echoed throughout the stadium, forced as it was, still bringing a small sliver of joy, as it was her first public announcement after her birth.
Matron Aunerae stood, standing with a malicious scowl on her face, an imprint of her hatred for all below her, even that of her own children. Her voice, its volume aided by magic like the announcer's before her, demanded respect and attention about the entire stadium, every head turning to fix their gaze upon her foreboding figure as she spoke. "Today, we celebrate the return of our Queen of Spiders, our liberator and our only true Matron, as She has returned to the realm of the Gods to return to our routine of everlasting worship. So, now we revel with the relishing feeling of blood spatter to honor Her and Her ascension into power once more!"
A warful scream erupted throughout the crowd, some even raised their arms in pride and triumph at the mention of Lolth's return, cries and applause being the only thing heard for about a ten minute timespan before it died down, allowing for the imposing voice of Matron Aunerae to plague everyone's spirit, silence, eerie stillness, washing over the arena itself. This was when all knew that she called for the utmost respect, when all narcissistic drow ceased their talk, and turned their heads to look at the true person within power; the one who could bring all to ruin should she simply snap her fingers and call upon one of her demons.
There was a story, whispered amongst the slaves that Arachne had overheard one night when she stowed away in Cazna's old safe haven, now belonging to her, as a place of assuagement where she would rest, that once, early in her mother's priesthood, she had become so furious at one of her sisters for disrespecting her name. In response to this she, the youngest and last daughter of Matron Nathrae II, called upon the demonic spirit of a Sibiriex, a creature from the Abyss made of flesh and marrow, a gaping mouth dripping of blood used to devour its enemies, and only called by the strongest of summoners due to its near extinct state, and Aunerae watched in sadistic pleasure as it devoured her kin.
This was disturbing enough, as Matron Aunerae had been the youngest daughter, those of which rarely made it to become a Matron unless they decided to stray from their original House, and instead create their own family, or would die when one of the other sisters took power in due time. But instead, with her power over demons, she killed each one of her sisters in one night, the same night in which she had ended the life of her own mother, and took power at the mere age of two hundred.
So, with this in mind, Arachne watched with veiled eyes as she spoke, sitting with poise as she always did, and instead began to wonder what she could have done to Cazna, if nothing at all. "We will have warriors of each of the two hundred fifty five Houses of Abburth, and the warrior who rises victorious will be given one wish that is within my power to give." A stray murmur echoed throughout the crowd for a moment before it was met with Matron Aunerae's evil gaze. "Lolth's blessing goes to all."
A congregated "amen" shot through the group all at once.
~
The tournament had been set to go over the course of two days, and many House's champions had fallen very quickly, mainly that of the lower Houses, for they, in their foolish pride, believed that their own top warrior was strong enough to fight, say Matron Chenzira Eilservs's son, who was the head of Slaekmia next to K'yornl, which was overambitious if anyone sensible had set them.
House Coborial had been, at least, due to the fact that instead of putting K'yornl up for battle, at risk of his life, they hired one of the Houseless to be their champion, who had made it to the second day under Chadra's coaching, and it had become Arachne's turn to oversee him, to hopefully ensure victory. Most importantly, the man was wise as well as an older gentleman, if she could even call him as such within her political regulations, meaning that she could ask him questions about Cazna that couldn't be used against her, seeing as she would have to rely on blackmail and deceit to get any answers from Xarann, the only one of her siblings who would even care to listen. It went against what little morals Arachne could make out in her own being.
She had woken earlier to slip into her own armor that would shield her from the violent bloodshed from the battle, among other things, which she would be witnessing from even closer than she had been before at the House Coborial viewing box, where blood still spattered upwards in more ferocious battles against gargantuan creatures used as trails for each battle. There had been whisperings that Matron Aunerae herself would summon a mighty Glabrezu as the final trail for the remaining two warriors who stood tall amongst the others, a string of death glimmering from their swords as they ascended through the challenges in the second day, which was a feat enough.
The armor itself was durable, and yet stunning in its own right, a beautiful silver metal was molded to fit her perfectly, the Coborial crest embossed into the ore itself, a matching set of iron gauntlets adorning Arachne's hands and arms, fiercely jagged spikes bending with her knuckles whenever she made a fist, while on her legs, leather hugged the muscles that supported the rest of the panoply. Upon her silky pearl white hair was an adamantine headdress, a veil still attached to it, the wires of metal intertwining together in intricate circle patterns, casting a dour feeling about her.
Making her way to the arena itself, Arachne grasped tightly on the hilt of her rapier, hidden lavender eyes darting about the contemptible city, and in turn the society underneath the ground. Passing through the repugnant, lamentful, and impoverished streets that the Houseless and the Other Races took as their own domicile, which saddened the drow elf due to the horrendous living conditions. It was a mournful realization that a majority of Abburth's yearly death toll was not that of the drow themselves, but of those on the streets.
And a sudden idea made itself known as she pondered such things. What if Cazna was on the streets of her home city, starving and left all in her lonesome despite the bustling of the Other Races? It was an upsetting thought for Arachne, because it meant that her sister had not fulfilled her greatest and most prominent dream to see the sun, and to feel the fresh air of the surface world, and not that of the sulfur filled air of the Underdark; her dream to touch the fresh rivers, to dip her toes in the ocean, and to gaze upon a real sunset, and not that of the tower that kept the time, all gone because she couldn't leave the confines of Abburth's own solitary cavern.
Arachne decided, though, to shake off the small bugs of negativity, and instead hope that the paid champion would have answers for her, and perhaps a shimmer of hope for her own belief, and maybe even the final domino to the game that was being known as her own betwixt and between opinion twisted and turned down the winding path of fate. It was almost like an iota of wisdom, that she so readily wanted to grasp, but couldn't find the handle because of some sort of impenetrable darkness, and yet was grazing against it each time she found it.
Walking into the chamber itself, where the heiress would, allegedly, beat the warrior to make him understand his importance to the House, which was none. Arachne, however, had a more intellectual notion, where instead she would berate the man with inquiry after inquiry, until she heard the answers she did so require, while also preparing him for the mental challenges the battles against demons and wizards who had made it rather far in the trials themselves.
Opening the door with a start, she saw the man, red eyed and bald, indicating his statusless life in Abburth, as hair signified power and nobility in the religion under the Spider Queen, therefore children who could bear no hair were sacrificed as a curse from the elven Gods instead of a blessing of Lolth, further proving to unbeknownst onlookers that any complication, both physical and mental, in any drow child would lead to their immediate death. Those besides conditions such as Arachne's very sensitive skin, which frequently flaked, peeled, and inflamed itself when irritated or near concentrated sources of sulfur, like an underground geyser, but this was not an issue, as it appeared on easily concealed parts of her body, such as her elbows and forearms.
"Name." The drow elf demanded rather harshly, withholding a wince from the crudeness of which she spoke to the Houseless male, before reminding herself that her facade could only be continued if she vocalized fake disdain towards those of the opposing gender.
Nodding his head after standing up from quite the stiff looking chair, he gestured his right hand outwards as he bent down for a moment, his left hand tucked behind his back in a respectful bow, his bare head showcasing many ferocious and turbulent scars. "Kethan, m'lady Coborial." seeing her awaiting expression as she looked down her nose at him, although reluctantly so, he continued, "What will be my proof of loyalty to you this day?"
Gesturing for him to return to his impalible seat, while Arachne took one directly in front of him, one of which was the same, if not impeccably similar to his, sitting up straight in her armor. "You will answer questions for me, to train your mind and to accouter you for the creatures you and your competitors will be faced with; the first day may have seemed simple, but this following day is nothing in comparison." a pause, allowing for the lavender eyed drow to think of her next choice of words, "For I am sure you have heard that Matron Aunerae, in the final battle, will call upon a Glabrezu."
Kethan let loose a thoughtful grunt, a small smiling ghosting over his features, otherwise hidden by a blistered and battle hardened hand covering his mouth in thought and focus. "Then, m'lady Coborial, ask me what you wish, and I shall answer." At this compliance, Arachne felt a smile glaze over her features in mimicry to her charge's small appearance of some form of comparable emotion. Despite the fact that she knew what she wanted was ultimately answered, she did not wish to jump into a question that could ensure her downfall or ascension to either the Demonweb pits or the surface world.
"What led you to become Houseless?" Starting off close to where any respectable matron-to-be would begin in her questioning, which would be comfortably called an interrogation by other parties, namely Arachne's sister, while the query was quite normalized amongst the drow. Family defined you, and therefore the Houseless, without a title to hold themselves in power, had to crawl to the top with pure force and power.
The man coughed expectantly, looking down for a moment and smirking before turning his carmine eyed gaze to her hidden face once more, "I forget such questions are normal here. I just returned from a long journey through the Underdark in an expedition with your city's Duergar." Arachne's facial expression urged Kethan to continue with his anecdote of life. "I have been Houseless for quite a while, and so had my father before me, and his father before him, as well as my rather vicious arsenal of aunts, uncles, and sisters." A thoughtful pause, "We were once part of House Naerth's cavalry, if such things interest you, m'lady, before deviating from the path after my grandfather, Dantrag, left the House one dark cycle of Mystérieuse, and after many centuries made a name for himself here on the streets."
"If my memory serves me correctly, House Naerth was raided about nine hundred years ago due to Matron Byrtyn Naerth's dealings with the fey, yes?" Arachne inquired, raising a white brow slightly before lowering it, remembering her concealed face, and the safety of it for her own wellbeing.
Kethan nodded, "You are quite right, m'lady."
Pondering her next question for a moment, Arachne found herself wondering what would happen if she or Cazna could or did something like that, simply leaving the House that they were sworn to in order to join the lowborn. It was quite obvious no such thing would ever be plausible with their status unless one was extremely proficient in the art of stealth and silence, that of which the heiress had no confidence in. If she was able to use the phrase correctly, one of the surface would relate her to a person with the grace of a newborn doe.
Not even a minute later, Arachne had decided her second question, which would be the last before she asked the inquiry which she desperately wanted answered. "Life on the Lowstreets suits you, then?"
The warrior chuckled, "Not considering joining me, are you?" His laugh ceased, taking quite the discountenancing tone, muttering a small apology for a poorly delivered joke, expecting a chastisement, before continuing at the drow elf's indifference in regards to the jive. "You tend to get used to life like mine if you're brought up by it." Kethan looked up at her, waiting anxiously for her next question, and possibly Arachne's next action, which he expected something akin to death or mortal injury.
"And would, say, a priestess of Lolth be able to thrive in such a place?" Arachne inquired rather cryptically.
"Why do you want to know, m'lady," drawing out his words in a languid tone, Kethan's lips rose in a self-assured smirk leaning in on his elbows, "who're you looking for?"
Arachne drew in a breath, "My eldest sister, Cazna Coborial."
A pause.
"Or do I need to be more specific?" She leaned in, her eyes glittering eerily past the darkened veil, "I'll let you know, I can simply snap my fingers and your neck would make the same noise, if not similar, in time with them when it cracks. Permanently."
Once more holding in a wince at the threat, empty as it was, went against what she had told herself not to do, and yet the drow ef found herself doing it anyways, despite her best attempts. This was something she wished to scold herself for, but she knew that whatever entity looked above her would forgive her just this once, if it meant Arachne would be able to find solace in Cazna's fate. Or she hoped so.
Kethan, tapping his chin, a smirk still adorning his features, leaned in closer, his monotone voice in a hushed whisper. "Cazna Coborial…"
Arachne closed her eyes in anticipation, feeling tears beginning to fill the unfilled space between her eyelid and waterline as she did so, both of hopeful happiness, and anticipated, almost expected, sorrow. It was almost as she felt in anticipation of the knife within her hands before she sunk it into her brother's body.
"...Dead."