Arachne walked down a beaten path just off to the north of Cell Maccis, it being one of the only paths that the people dare keep open and visible for fear of being found by a group of drow from any neighboring city, for their were many that they were near, the most prominent being, of course, Abburth, but they were also just in between the aforementioned and a smaller, less powerful city, known as Ithilaughym. It was most renowned for its expeditions, and as such that was the only reason it hadn't crumbled into pure warfare, as its power battles were handled by how many raids had occurred that were caused by them, and how many elves had been killed in such a raid. But of course, there was always the violent hand off of power that kept the balance.
Despite this, it was her turn to go on patrol, and it had been that of a lone patrol for the fact that little happened on the lines of that specific trail, and Arachne quite enjoyed the solitude, for she had little time with it now than she had ever had, to account for the fact that over the past decade since Ristil and Tris's baby shower (nine years and eleven months since their baby's birth), that she and Amalica had been sharing a home together for twelve years of their time in a relationship, and as such, when one returned home from a task of some sort, the other was already home. And that was something to expect in their home, as it was in many others.
To think that she had nearly met her death in one of these caverns was almost unimaginable, for all she saw now in the desolate places of which tall and crystalline stalagmites and stalactites found their homes was that of the signs of her contact with Eilistraee only fifteen years prior, and strangely enough in narrow underground, she felt no fear of her starvation once again. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she knew that there was civilization near her to protect her should the worst occur, although that had never changed her feelings towards things that reminded her of other life-altering events her life, for instance the pocket knife she had used on Bemril brought back horrid flashbacks of that night, and Arachne was overjoyed by the fact that she had "forgotten," to bring it with her during her escape.
Although, the drow elf had some idea as to why she felt this way, and it had everything to do with the ethereal woman she had met just prior to meeting the love of her life. For it had been not only the day that she had truly been met with her mortality, but it had also been the day that she had a spiritual awakening, as well as a moral one. Arachne found herself thinking more of that introduction whenever she wandered into the depths of the underground passageways, these caverns just as complex as her life before she had reached the arms of Eilistraee and felt their embrace. The simplicity offered to her was something that Arachne wished to keep for the rest of her life; and she knew that the rest of her life she would have it.
So, on the path she continued, lazily turning her head from side to side, her hand gently resting on the hilt of her rapier, not an iota of urgency flowing through it, for the trail itself, as mentioned beforehand, and constantly told to her by the clergy, was calm. No one traversed it at any time of day, least of all at night when drow activity would spike should they be wandering through the caverns in search of an opening out of the Underdark and into the surface world to harm any nearby elven encampments or villages. Arachne recalled that Xarann had once told a story of such a raid that he had once been on, and she even further reminisced upon the fact that she knew nothing of how to react to such a story.
He had told her that they had used an entrance into the surface that not many had knowledge of, and even fewer dared use, for it was near a plane of acid pools and of springs even more potent than that of the ones in the back gardens of House Coborial, and they had lost three men to the crumbling structure of the rock only a day before they executed the raid itself. The priestess that had been leading them was a lesser one, her name being Rilrae, her only achievement of note being the fact that she had killed thousands of elves, dwarves, and humans over the course of the raids she had either been a part of or had led. And of course she had been serving their House. There were never any lesser priestesses of notability that had never had any dealings with the First House of Abburth; it was almost self explanatory. Some even said that she was the personal caretaker of Diablo, Matron Aunerae's demonic pet.
Xarann had told Arachne that when they had reached the surface, it was in the dead of night, and that they had to wear helmets that hid the sky from them in fear that they would hear the call of Eilistraee, although he did not say Her name, he instead said that they did not want the soldiers to "fall under the spells of the misguided Gods of the world," although there was no doubt that the wizard knew better. Either way, he had told her what they had found, that being a small village of even smaller shared homes, the largest part of the population being elves.
The wizard had even counted the bodies after all of the innocent had fallen. Three hundred elves and one hundred others. And the expedition had gone home knowing that they had committed a massacre they thought to be right.
All of a sudden, an abrupt force beginning to hurl itself onto her, and breaking her from her passive state, Arachne flung her body back upwards, grabbing onto the source of the sudden push, and twisting it as she threw it to the ground, her right hand quickly bringing itself to her rapier's hilt, drawing it from its scabbard, placing her boot onto the center of the being that had suddenly attacked her, the point of her sword being placed not-so-gently against the nape of the perpetrator's neck.
Waiting for her vision to refocus, Arachne then saw the person who had attacked her, only to be mildly shocked by his size, for he was easily the size of a halfling, if not shorter, and she realized that the proximity between her foot and her rapier only being a mere inches apart due to the proportions of his torso, and as such she quickly drew her foot farther down and away from his chin so as to not harm herself. Although, seeing the look in his eyes, she almost removed her foot entirely, for it almost appeared as if he was crying, droplets spilling from the sides of his eyes, falling onto the ground from the sides of his face from his head's position.
Her expression softened a bit as she cocked her head sideways a bit to attempt to get a better look at him, Arachne opened her mouth to speak, hesitating for a moment as she saw a fat tear fall from the man's cheek, "What is your business here? Why did you attack me?" She lightened the hold of the heel of her boot, shifting her weight more to the other to prod him to speak more.
The man opened his eyes after another couple tears fell from the corners of them, wide and sparkling green eyes meeting her lavender ones with a pleading glint about them as he spoke fast and breathily. "I-I'm so sorry, miss, I-I had n-no intent of m-making it look like I-I w-was attacking you! Goodness no!" He shook his head fervently, "I-I need to deliver a m-message to M-Mother Maccis! D-do you know her, m-miss?"
Arachne narrowed her eyes in a skeptical sense, a puzzled frown adorning her features, "Yes. What do you need to tell her?"
The man looked from side to side for a moment, looking at her again for a split second before he looked to the side again, calling out in desperation and pain as an arrow suddenly impaled one of his wide eyes, the sudden sound of choking being heard from his before he lay still, and Arachne rose her sword again, looking down at the man for but a moment before she stepped back from his body, choosing to feel remorse for it later; or attempting to choose such a thing, if that was at all possible, that is.
"Who goes?" Arachne called, ducking behind a stalagmite, covering her neck with her left hand as she held her rapier in her right, looking from left to right as she did so, "I'll let you know, there are about a thousand more of my kind waiting in case I call. Show yourself before I feel the need to call upon them!" She hoped such a lie would convince whoever these people were to retreat, or perhaps they knew that there weren't even a thousand people in Cell Maccis's militia; either way, her hope hinged on a weak lie. At least they couldn't see her eyes.
Almost as if her fear was answered, she heard a voice from behind her, dark and menacing, chuckling for a moment, moment enough for her to wheel around to face a drow woman holding a hand crossbow, "Silly blasphemer. We know your tricks."
And she pulled the trigger.
~
Arachne nearly lept out of her bed, sweat dripping from almost every inch of her, a small scream escaping from her lips that were chapped, no doubt from chewing them during her dream, although she wouldn't even consider that a dream. Dreams were blissful and wonderful. This was a nightmare. A nightmare that she had died in. Feeling a cold hand on her shoulder, she looked up in dismay, almost jerking away before she was met with Amalica's eyes, instead opting for a small jump.
"You okay, dear?" Amalica inquired sweetly, sitting down on the bed as she placed Arachne's head in her lap, caressing her unbrushed head as she did so, the drow elf's white hair meeting the small pillow that the skirt half of her love's apron left between her legs as she crossed them. "I was making breakfast so that you could sleep, but that can wait. If you want to talk about what happened, that's fine by me."
Arachne smiled bashfully, grabbing onto one of Amalica's hands, sighing in the comfort they brought her, pressing a kiss to it, "D-don't worry," she began, stuttering, "it was just a nightmare."