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Mar 11, 2015

Restless Reverie

So I decided to write a little something about my drow cleric Thuss of house Ihlagho, that I'm currently playing in a campaign, it's focusing on some of his fears and issues since he's not ver outspoken about them in-character and well... things got a bit out of hand length-wise and ended up a bit more dramatic than I'd liked; but it works out decently for its purpose.

Note: I also decided to take a bit of liberty in describing a certain deity because I can't picture spiders with drow heads in a serious light. it just seems silly.

“Todayhas been a fairly good day”, the cleric mused as he watched the sky shift through a myriad of colours; shades of bright orange that forced him to avert his eyes to softer pinks and purples, before finally melting away into the darkness of night time. In fact, the day had been a rather uneventful one. But compared to the stresses of fighting cultists or golems or, Vhaeraun forbid, having to enter streams or bodies of completely mundane water, a day spent doing much of nothing aside from resting was a welcome break.

Sighing softly, Thuss leaned back against the wall of the airship in which he seemed to have found a at least somewhat lasting residence, letting the wind play with long strands of white hair for a few minutes as he savoured the evening air. Had it been any other day, he could, and probably would have, remained in place for hours, if not the entire night. Reverie had not been peaceful as of late and it was beginning to take its toll on him, but tonight was too important to waste on such trivial matters as further rest. The reason being clear to him as he, after a few minutes of relaxation, opened his blank white eyes to regard the night sky.

A myriad of stars were beginning to dot the blackening sky, growing in numbers by the minute, though the light they supplied wasn’t much as they stood alone against the darkness. Tonight was a new moon, the night of the hunt; and with a bit of luck it would be the first time he’d see the ritual to completion. For it had seemed that all the forces in the realms had tried to keep him from doing so the three chances he’d had since learning of how to carry it out.

The first time, he’d been surprised by a storm and left utterly miserable to huddle up inside a hollow tree like some sort of godforsaken wood elf; the storm had lasted for a grand total of two days, robbing him of any chances he might’ve had at tracking down the appropriate prey in a timely manner. The second time around, he’d sworn to do better, and so he had, why he’d even managed to track down a stag… and gotten so excited about the prospect of actually doing something right in the name of his new god that he’d completely disregarded just how idiotic it was to take down a mere animal with something as powerful as a Boneshatter spell. The effect had been… impressive, in a way, though there hadn’t been enough left of the animal to actually use.

So he’d bought a shortbow, learned to use it to a decent degree (though he still wouldn’t call himself proficient with the weapon) and sworn to himself that next time he’d do better.

… Only to then completely miscalculate how much time he and his newfound allies had spent chasing after a rather ruthless cultist inside a cave system. That he’d been frustrated upon noting his error would have been the understatement of the millennia understatement.

He let out another sigh at the recollection of his past failures, reaching for the bow to string it and prepare for the hunt. Frustration hadn’t been all he’d felt during those moments though, in fact, that was preferable to the fear he’d felt at each failure. Ten months had passed since he’d fled the underdark and arrived on the surface, not much less since he’d cried about his fears and frustration before a masked deity while deep in reverie, and soon after pledged his loyalty to the first person (if one would be so bold as to refer to a deity in such a manner) he’d ever met who’d shown him understanding and spoken to him not as a tool, servant or slave, but an individual with value. A small smile crossed his features as he let his thoughts cling to that first meeting for a few seconds, before it was replaced with a frown.

Ten months, and he’d yet to do much of anything in the name of the masked lord. Hell, he’d failed all three times he’d even attempted one of the few rituals he knew of. If he’d shown such incompetence whilst he was still in the service of Selvetarm…

A cold shiver ran down his spine and Thuss opted to bury the nails on his left hand in his palm, letting the slight pain distract him from that line of thought. He didn’t want to go there, didn’t need the reminders, not when they were already frequent enough that he’d half expected to be turned into a drider after each of his failures; despite Vhaeraun having seemed more amused than angered each time… particularly during the storm.

Scoffing at the memory, he rose from his seat with bow in hand and newfound determination in his heart. Tonight he’d hunt down one of those damned animals, tear the antlers off its head and dig out its heart; then he’d offer his praise and prayers to the masked lord as a proper cleric would! Pausing only to cast one glance back towards the door of the ship, he then leapt off the railing and began his trek into the dark woods.

Today might’ve had been fairly good, but tonight would be fantastic.

*************************

Tonight was turning to be absolutely terrible.

The chill night air did well at keeping his built up weariness away, and for that we was grateful. But that seemed to be the only mercy to be granted to him too. Every tree and bush seemed to have some sharp branch dedicated solely to clawing after his hair or cloak… or face, damn it all. Two small cuts already marred the black skin above his left eye and his right ankle was giving him more than just a little pain after he’d fallen, fallen! Like some… some race that did such things! over a tree root that he could’ve sworn had not been there only moments before.

“Where in the nine hells am I anyway?...” That was another thing about the surface that he still hadn’t gotten used to yet. He could find his way and memorize the tunnels of a cave with ease, but in a forest each tree or clearing looked the same, and tonight the absence of a moon made it difficult to figure out how long he’d been at his task. Not that Thuss was overly worried about getting lost; Vhaeraun provided spells and abilities well suited for travelling distances both long and short, a single teleportation spell could take him back to the airship in a heartbeat if necessary.

Not that he had any thoughts of giving up, not again, his pride and devotion would not allow such a thing. Though as another branch whipped dangerously close to his eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder just how far those qualities would be tested this time. “I swear these damned trees have it out for me.” Talking to himself wouldn’t help, he knew that, if anything it might be counterproductive. But he’d gotten used to having voices around him as of late, to the point where the silence became almost bothersome. “Makes sense though, I bet they’re allied to some group of tree-hugging elves, would be just my luck too if I ran into some of those now.”

Of course that wasn’t likely to happen, not a second time at least. Unlike the area where he’d met his travelling companions, this area was rather well mapped, and those maps had shown no settlements of any kind nearby. Now if he could just tone back his irritation and paranoia a little bit, perhaps he’d actually be able to focus-

The feeling of something small and systematically moving against his face where the branch had hit him cut that thought short, drawing another curse from the drow as he reached up to brush the offending item away. He had expected a leaf or something, but as he lowered his hand again, he couldn’t help but flinch at the sight of the half-crushed spider that his fingers had closed around. In its throes of death it kept flailing those thin legs about, as if trying to reach for a proper hold on him once more.

He suppressed a shudder and instead crushed the arachnid in his grasp before hastily whipping it clean against a nearby tree trunk. A little over ten months ago, he wouldn’t have minded its presence. Spiders had been part of the everyday life in the underdark. They’d been practically everywhere, both indoors and out in the streets. Back then he’d been a warrior priest in the clergy of the spider that waits, and even now he still wore a house insignia that depicted a spider masquerading as a surface flower. Though he’d never found much joy in their presence, he’d still met them with the same accepting indifference as he had so many other aspects of life. Nowadays however, he couldn’t even look at the damn things without being overcome with revulsion and paranoia. They reminded him too clearly of a life he’d been forced to flee, gods that had abandoned him when he’d most needed them and that he, in turn, had cast aside.

Even so, there was something different this time, a sort of unease that he couldn’t quite define or identify. Different from his usual paranoia… “Or maybe imagining so is just another sign of it.” He chuckled at the futility of trying to make sense of it. For a hundred and twenty-seven years he’d been taught to expect danger where there was none, and it made relaxing, even during the best of times, somewhat of a chore.

Shaking his head slightly, the cleric was just about to continue on his path when his gaze drifted towards the trunk with the smeared spider again; another arachnid had crept forth at some point and began feasting on the remains of its fallen cousin. This time there was no use suppressing the shudder, and it was with a bit more hurry to his pace than necessary that he continued on.

However long his trek continued, he had no idea. There were a few places where the tracks of the animals he sought could be spotted in the grass or dirt, but each time they would either lead to terrain that made tracking impossible or just straight up seemed to vanish into thin air. Of course such a thing was impossible, but that didn’t do much to help him in his endeavour; he was a cleric after all, not a ranger. But eventually it seemed that he might finally have been granted some amount of luck. One set of tracks, fresh and easily spotted even to an inexperienced tracker brought his hopes up as he eagerly took up the chase; a small smile growing on his face, though he still couldn’t quite seem to shake his previous unease.

The tracks eventually lead out into a small clearing, and he paused briefly to scan it for wildlife that his appearance might scare away before making his way out of the thicket of trees to continue on the trail… only for the tracks to suddenly end into nothingness once more. His eager smile was immediately replaced with a frustrated scowl, though traces of concern made themselves evident as well as he started searching for where the tracks might be continued. Something wasn’t right, sure, he was not used to neither the terrain nor the creatures of the surface, but surely he should not have lost such an obvious trail so quickly? His search, however, proved futile, for the tall grass of the clearing revealed no more tracks apart from those he added. There were no brooks or streams that an animal might’ve bounced off into and the only thing breaking up the grass in the clearing was a large tree stump with some sort of surface flowers growing around its roots. His eyes narrowed as he gave the aged stump and then the surrounding area a doubting look. Had the animal leapt onto that and somehow bounded off into the forest somehow? That didn’t seem likely, and even then he should surely have seen some signs of continued tracks…

Another chill went down his spine and he paused to consider it, there was something else added to his unease now, a familiarity of some sort, though what had triggered it he couldn’t tell. The feeling persisted though, and by now Thuss was more scanning his surroundings for threats rather than his prey. Though of course nothing showed itself; that would’ve made things easy and more bearable, now however he felt almost like he was back in the Underdark, trusting his instincts over reason just like he’d been taught by-

He blinked, tearing his eyes away from his surroundings to focus on the plants near the stump. Though half-closed for the night, he could still see the resemblance between them and the masked spider on his house insignia, a subconscious reminder that he hadn’t picked up on until now; it almost made him want to laugh that he’d be so easily spooked by nothing more than a mere reminder of his past.

He might have, too, if the feeling of familiarity hadn’t taken on an even more ominous tune. This too, was familiar.

Something was wrong, that was a thought he’d revisited several times this night but now it struck harder than ever before. The flowers were familiar, that much he could explain. What he couldn’t explain, however, was the familiarity with that realization, with that unmistakable feeling that he’d been in this very spot facing these same very emotions in the past. Contradicting that though, was the knowledge that he and his companions had arrived in the area only this morning, and that he had never, could never have, set foot in this clearing before.

“An illusion…” he wasn’t aware that he had spoken aloud, but hearing the words spoken made them at least seem real, jolting his thoughts out of trying to work out if this was reality or mere imagery and onto the task of actually finding it out. Grim determination bubbled up amongst his confusion and distress, and as he reached into a pocket for the symbol he required to cast his spells he was well on the track of picturing how he’d tear the offending caster apart.

All those feelings, however, came to a screeching halt as his hand closed not around the black leather mask he should’ve had, but around a pendant carved out of smooth cold stone. For a moment that seemed to last an eternity he couldn’t feel his heart beating at all, but then suddenly it began to make up for its error by racing uncontrollably. Thuss didn’t need to look at the pendant to know what it was, for it was just as familiar, no, even more so, as the back of his hand. Still, even with fear reclaiming a grip on him much more firmly and far colder than before, he shakily withdrew his hand and opened it. His white eyes widening in recognition he’d already anticipated but against all odds hoped to be proved wrong.

The pendant simple, carved out of pure black onyx and its only decoration being the flawless depiction of a crossed sword and mace, with a spider lying in wait over where the weapons intersected. Or at least, it had been flawless once… Now a deep crack split the spider over the middle, and several smaller fractures branched out from there; courtesy of an enraged drow who’d been lost and abandoned all remnants of his faith on his seventh day on the surface. A drow who’d taken to defacing this holy symbol of Selvetarm with nothing more than the mundane rock that he’d repeatedly smashed against the stone spider; and who’d later thrown the remnants as far into a deep cold lake as he could muster.

Yet now the pendant was back in his hand, somehow, and the spider seemed to glare up at him menacingly even though it wasn’t real, couldn’t be real, and yet-

A movement registered in the edge of his range of vision and the cleric tentatively raised his gaze from the pendant, only to see a black, fist-sized spider crawl up onto the tree stump and stop there as if content with its new perch, but even if he hadn’t been blessed with his superior darkvision, Thuss would still have known that the spider’s placement was no mere coincidence. It was watching him with as much intent and focus as its multiple eyes could allow. For a second, the drow and spider merely stared at one another in silence. Then the flowers beneath the stump began to move, revealing legs that hadn’t been there before as they stirred from their hiding spot, all whilst the black spider remained in place.

Thuss on the other hand, turned and began to run.

The roots underfoot were as treacherous and the branches as sharp as before, if not more so. But now he didn’t pay either any heed, even if the former sent painfully careening to the forest floor and the latter added one stinging cut after another to his ebony skin. There was no time for curses, not that he would’ve been able to think of any anyway with how all his mind was screaming at him was to flee as fast as possible. The forest that had been almost eerily quiet before seemed to now be coming to life, with the rustling of thousands of hidden eight-legged creatures coming to join the hunt. They were crawling on the ground, on tree trunks and branches and hanging from the canopy like the worst kind of fruits imaginable. And though Thuss hardly took any time for observing his surroundings, he could see the leaves of each spider-decorated tree grow thinner, the green seemingly being sapped from them to the point where they’d resemble spiderweb replicas of their true selves. At first he’d been able to keep ahead of the corruption, but now it seemed to be everywhere. He didn’t know what it all meant, honestly didn’t want to know either, no matter what, he was sure that the answer would bring him even more despair than what was currently filling his heart alongside bone-chilling fear.

He had to get away, had to get back to the others, there was safety in numbers after all, right? Yet he couldn’t find any sort of comfort in the thought of his companions; for he couldn’t imagine that he would get a chance to see them again. Earlier, the forest had made him lost, and now he was running in a blind panic until his lungs hurt from the strain he put on them and then pushing himself beyond that. To stop was to die, that much he was convinced of, his only chance was that he’d somehow make it out of this wretched place before he tripped up too badly, or grew too tired, or-

Then, suddenly, the diseased trees disappeared from around him as he reached the end of a tree line he hadn’t even noticed. Suddenly the air around him was free from webbed trees and spiders as he stumbled out into tall soft grass, and almost tripped over the tree stump he’d left behind at the start of his escape.

“What?...” His voice was a trembling, barely above a whisper as he stumbled back a few steps, steadying himself as he got a proper look at his surroundings. Sickened trees lined the clearing now, the flower-spiders were gone, probably having taken up the hunt for him amongst their brethren, but what truly made his heart sink with renewed terror was the sight of that one black spider still sitting on the tree stump, still staring intently at the exhausted cleric who responded to its presence by reflexively backing away.

Then the ground crumbled beneath one of his legs, sending him crumbling down with a scream of chock and fear. For a split second of merciful distraction, he assumed that he must’ve stepped into one of those long eared animal’s holes, but his trapped leg found no support, no walls or bottom to the space beneath the surface of the ground. This was no animal’s nest, he realized in something almost akin to defeat, and his first attempt at pulling himself free only served to shred what thin disguise of surface there was as the ground gave away again, sending him screaming into a pitch black abyss.

***********

The only sound he could hear was that of his own breathing, shallow and ragged from the stress his lungs had been put through earlier. Still though, the sound was a curse and a reassurance as it confirmed one thing; he’d survived the fall, somehow. That in itself was a surprise, for his rapid descent had seemed to gone on for ages. The feather falling effect of his house insignia had failed him and without his holy symbol there had been no possibility of casting a spell to potentially save himself. He could vaguely remember the feeling of falling through several spider webs on the way down, the sticky webbing still clinging to him in several places, but they had all been of the flimsy variety and couldn’t possibly have served to break his fall.

How then, was he alive?

“Maybe if you’d actually open your eyes, you could start working on figuring that out.” A sarcastic voice in his mind chided, perfectly identical to the tone he’d use whenever his comrades did something he deemed foolish… which was often. Funny, he couldn’t remember closing his eyes, but that was understandable he supposed, and easily enough remedied. And after taking a few deep breaths to brace himself against the inevitable pain, the cleric slowly pushed himself to a kneeling position, opening his eyes as he went, though he was more so focused on the expected crunching of broken bones and flaring pain of pierced or crushed organs.

Neither of those things came to him though. Though the seconds ticked by, no injuries made themselves known to the drow, in fact, he felt perfectly fine, with the only exception being the exhaustion from before. “That’s… this can’t be right” he couldn’t help but protest this revelation. It wasn’t that he wanted to be hurt or anything, but to be uninjured after such a fall was downright impossible.

A sound caught his attention then, a sort of rhythmic tapping sound, along with light scraping and that of small objects shifting against one another. Whatever its origin, it very effectively pulled him out of his musings and made him raise his gaze towards his surroundings.

The sight that greeted him made his blood run cold. The cave that Thuss now found himself in was massive, such that he couldn’t see the far edges, and he didn’t think it caused by the range of his darkvision. What he could see, however, was bones of all shapes and sizes littering the cave floor, some of them impaled upon the vicious-looking stalagmites that rose like fangs from the ground; and all of it covered in spider webs, which in turn housed thousands of arachnids of varying size. All of this registered at the outline of his vision though, for the cleric found himself unable to tear his eyes from the driders that were observing him with equal parts hatred and jealousy.

He’d seen such creatures before, and heard stories of them even more often. Always as a warning example about what might happen to those that erred in their service to the spider queen. But never before had he seen the cursed beings in such numbers as now. They were clinging to stalagmites, coming out of hiding from web-covered hideouts, many simply wandering into his range of vision from the darkness outside. All of them were glaring at him with the outmost contempt and longing, hating him for not having shared their misshapen fate; some snarled at him, others cried out with words that seemed half-forgotten or no longer possible for the driders to pronounce. A few of them started moving towards him.

A sudden wave of dread overcame him then, almost to the point of making him nauseous. It was understandable, of course. The driders would tear him apart in the most savage way and he had no means whatsoever to defend himself, not against these numbers. It was hopelessness beyond despair, though he still found himself reaching for his shortsword, only to find the scabbard empty.

He almost laughed then, at the futility of it all, though the sound that escaped him was something more akin to a strangled sob. He had no spells at his disposal, no weapons, and he was about to be torn apart by these wretched creatures, truly he’d never felt more vulnerable or alone in his entire life. Closing his eyes, all he could think of to do was brace himself against the inevitable and pray to the masked lord that it would be over with quickly.

“Do you really think that bastard can help you now...?”

Time seemed to stop for a few horrible seconds as the words, no, the voice, registered; and the nausea from before returned in full force. He knew that voice, there had been times in the past when he’d heard it clearly, though then it had always screamed for the death and destruction of all things.

Thuss knew he didn’t want to look, didn’t want to confirm what he already knew. The same feeling of familiarity from before was back, and now it seemed to pull his eyes open, as if he was nothing more than a puppet following a script. The driders were still there, he realized, though their approach had stopped after a few steps; now they seemed frozen, a few backing away, and all of them staring in open fear at something behind the cleric.

There was nothing more he wanted than to look, already knowing what he’d find, who he’d find. Yet, he couldn’t help but turn around to face the being whose presence was quickly becoming overwhelming.

It, no, he, was a drider, but so very different from the others that the word could only be applied in the loosest of sense. Indeed, the being’s lower body tapered off into that of a spider, like some sort of wicked parody of a centaur. Its carapace was pitch black and the legs sported wicked claws that could, and probably would, easily tear him apart at a moment’s notice. But it was the form above the spider’s body that set this one apart from the others. This one wasn’t distorted or misshapen, instead sporting a well muscled torso and ebony face framed by a mane of stark white unkempt hair. Like the trembling cleric, the being’s eyes were as white as its hair, but that’s where the similarities ended; for while the former was staring at this godform in absolute terror, the latter regarded his prey with barely withheld fury.

“-And did you really think you could escape?”

The cleric shuddered at the voice that somehow seemed like a hiss and a roar at the same time, spoken with intense hatred and wicked joy alike. The deity however, did not seem to actually want an answer, for before Thuss could even think to respond, the other lashed out with a clawed hand, grasping his throat in a vice-like grip and lifting the drow high above the ground before slamming him against a nearby stalagmite. Now deeming his capture at even enough eye-level the deity stepped closer, leaning in to let his gaze burn into the terrified cleric’s.

“She wants you dead, you know.” The voice came again, uttered from a mouth filled with wicked fangs that simply did not belong in the face of a drow. “And so do I.” The latter part went unsaid, but it was no less clear to the captured cleric who’d begun to struggle weakly against the hold on his neck. Of course, matched against a deity his struggles amounted to nothing but putting a wicked spark in the eyes of the godform.

A soft scraping sounded again, though by now the cleric’s attention was too focused on his struggles and the immediate view of the spider deity. Anything beyond those horrible eyes and the fanged grin that was spreading across the other’s face was secondary priority at best. Or at least it was, until the deity stepped back a little bit, allowing the cleric a good view of the weapon that his previously unoccupied hand was now lifting high into the air.

“Venommace” The name rang through Thuss’s mind. He’d learned about it at some point during his prior clerical training- though that was about as far as his thoughts got before the mace was brought down upon him, crashing into his right arm and crushing it against the stalagmite with a sickening crack. The spikes of the weapon embedded deeply into the stone, though the deity seemed to pay this little mind as he effortlessly pulled it free again; sending the tattered and severed remains of the drow’s arm to the cavern floor.

The cleric stared almost dumbfounded at the torn stump that remained of the arm, sinevs and torn mucles hanging freely into the dusty air, yet the pain didn’t register. He supposed on some level that it was chock causing it, but couldn’t figure out if that was a blessing or a curse. Almost as if to try and determine if this was actually happening, Thuss tried to reach for his bleeding appendage with his one remaining hand.

Reality, however, came crashing down again alongside the mace as it pinned his left arm to the stalagmite in a similar fashion to the first. The blow hadn’t been so clean this time though, but the effect it had on the drow was more notable. This time he snapped out of his chocked state, his white eyes widened at the sound of the deity once more dislodging the weapon only to bring it upon him again in a more hurried fashion; this third blow tearing both the remaining arm and a strangled scream from the pinned drow.

The deity’s grin grew ever wider, seemingly savouring the other’s anguish along with the sight of spilled blood. Never having been one known for self restraint, the deity sent the mace down again on his victim, drawing more sounds of bones breaking as the weapon collided with one of the cleric’s knees. This time, however, simply severing a limb wouldn’t do, drawn out and systematic torture wasn’t his way. Unlike his grandmother, Selvetarm had never had the patience for it, at least not for as far as his twisted memory could reach.

The next blow came down upon Thuss’s chest, utterly crushing the ribcage and many of not all organs beneath, the mace was then pulled upwards instead of simply out, its spikes leaving deep gashes across his neck and face. He tried to scream again then, once more unable to feel the pain, but the horror of the mutilation and swift approach of inevitable death drove all reason from the drow’s mind. But all he could manage was to send a stream of blood and bits of flesh from his mouth, as his lungs were not only non-functioning, but smashed beyond repair.

Perhaps the only mercy then was the knowledge that then surely his heart must be in pieces too, and that he’d only have seconds at most left to endure of this horrible nightmare. In fact, he couldn’t tell that or the blood pooling down into his eyes were the reason for his vision to blur and turn red, though not to the point where he couldn’t see the deity raising the mace again while looking straight into his eyes. Neither was he spared the sight of the mace’s descent or the sickening crack of its impact against his skull.

After that though, everything finally went blissfully dark.

**************

A heartbeat or an eternity later, his eyes sprang wide open. Though a flash of something impossibly bright forced Thuss to shut them tightly again with a pained cry, whilst raising an arm to shield himself against the onslaught. Slowly and painfully did his vision return, although purple spots still danced in front of his eyes and obscured the limited sight of his ebon-skinned hand.

“Wait… hand?” Blinking away at least some of the obscuring spots, the drow stared in utter bafflement for several seconds at the limb that was once again attacked to his body. Then the sensation of wooden planks beneath his other hand, one that he’d subconsciously been using to lean against in his sitting position, finally registered and he spared a glance down at that too. Finally the facts started to add up in his mind. The fact that he still had all his limbs intact, that he was breathing freely, and that it was the rising sun and not the cruel eyes of a deity that was glaring at him. Beyond this he also took note of the wooden planks beneath him and against his back, along with the unstrung bow lying beside him.

Last came the memories and knowledge that he’d suffered this exact same nightmare every other day for at least two fortnights now.

Letting himself fall back against the wall, Thuss couldn’t tell if he should laugh and cry, though the latter seemed infinitely more tempting. Somehow, he’d slipped off into reverie without even noticing, only to both suffer a reoccurring hell and fail his duties in one fell swoop. The last part sent a cold chill down his spine and without even thinking, he reached into his pocket, much like he had in the dream. This time, however, his fingers didn’t close around a marred onyx pendant, but against the comforting texture of leather, and with one swift motion, the black mask was staring up at the cleric with empty eyes. Odd as it might seem, the drow still found relief in this, for the holy symbol radiated no displeasure or anger, so very much unlike the one in his dream had.

The feeling of something moving down his face did almost send him into a panic again, though this time when he reached to brush it away, his hand didn’t come away wet with spider guts, but rather with tears. If they were due to fear, relief or caused by the sunlight, Thuss couldn’t tell, though he liked to believe it was due to the last option, even if the sun surely shouldn’t be drawing as many more as followed, as well as the muffled sniffles as the drow curled up against the wall.

He remained like this for several minutes, silently weeping for his fears and exhaustion, for he felt as he’d truly spent the night running, instead of resting from dusk to dawn. And even though he continuously chided himself for acting so weak and… un-drow-like, going against everything he’d been taught of how to handle emotions; it wasn’t until the sound of approaching footsteps reached him that he finally managed to force his tears to cease. And as the door to the deck swung open, the drow hurriedly wiped away any remnants.

The pair that stepped out of the ship was an odd one, a far too chipper who went by the name of Dolgrim, and Lariam, an elven wizard who seemed as though he could fall asleep where he stood. Both dressed in some odd sort of clothing that the dwarf had picked up shortly after Thuss had joined and that the drow completely failed to appreciate or find any sort of sensibility in. He did however know that he did not desire the company of either individual right now, no matter what the annoying little voice at the back of his mind had to say about it.

Of course, as with Thuss’s usual luck, his wish was not one to be granted so easily; which became apparent when Dolgrim finally took note of his presence. “Aye lad, didn’t see you there. Admiring the sunrise, are we?” In all honesty, Thuss couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, and he also didn’t have enough energy to try and figure it out with. So his response came in the form of an uncertain look followed by a shrug. “Hardly… I simply haven’t had the time to retire yet; what with the hunt and all, remember?” Thuss could see from the small frown on the dwarven cleric’s face that yes, he did indeed remember about the ritual that the drow had told he would be performing for that dark masked lord; a religious choice that Dolgrim couldn’t quite agree with, but had come to accept as long as no openly evil deeds were performed. It was a sort of unspoken agreement between the clerics of Truesilver and Vhaeraun, and it had worked well enough so far.

The dwarf nodded slowly, as a more open means of acknowledgement, and added, for the sake of politeness. “And did ye have any good hunting luck?” though the souring look on the drow’s face told him that the answer was a negative one. “Well, you’ll get ‘em next time, lad.” Thuss on the other hand, chose to remain nonverbal and simply nodded, unable to help a small shudder at the thought of who’d ended up being the hunted one this night.

The drow’s white eyes drifted to the elven wizard who’d remained quiet up until now, though Thuss could see a sort of questioning look in those bright blue eyes. He cursed mentally, hoping that the perceptive elf hadn’t spotted any signs of his earlier weakness, or that he hadn’t been able to mask his emotions just now as well as he’d hoped; but before Lari could open his mouth to speak any unwanted questions, the drow intercepted by making a show of stretching and yawning as if exhausted… which he damn well didn’t need to fake. “Well, I won’t be getting in the way of your little morning routine, in any case…” He began pushing his way past the duo, pausing only to the elf a half-hearted grin. “Rather, I will be heading to bed.”

His mood lightened a bit at seeing how the wizard’s thoughtful expression turned into something more akin to a pout. Thuss might now be free of the spider gods and the forced animosity towards surface elves, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t enjoy messing with his fair-skinned brethren on occasion. Besides, Lari would probably find the means to return the favour somehow anyway.

No others of his companions seemed to be awake as of yet, a fact that Thuss was immensely grateful for as he made his way back to his quarters. Once inside, he made it a point to pull the black, sun-blocking curtains shut and to lock the door as per his usual paranoid habit. Finally feeling secure enough in his isolation, the let the mask of alertness and general discontent fall from his exhausted features and he let his shoulders slump as a deep sigh escaped him. “Now what?” He honestly wasn’t sure of what to do next, over all else Thuss knew that he required rest, least he lose focus next time something ridiculously dangerous attacked the group, and it damn well would, it was an inescapable constant it seemed. But he also couldn’t shake the feeling of dread at the thought of sleeping, not wanting to risk another go at the nightmare that had become almost a constant by now.

He spent a good ten minutes or so in contemplation of this, torn between his choices, before he finally stumbled over to the bed and practically collapsed onto it; what little energy he still possessed quickly fleeing him. This time, however, before allowing himself to drift off into reverie, the the drow clumsily pulled the mask of his deity up to his face and tied it in place; all the while quietly praying, nay, begging the masked lord for a dreamless rest. It was ridiculous, of course, to ask a god for something so trivial, especially after having failed a ritual for the fourth time around. But at this point, Thuss was well beyond reasonable thinking.

And whether it was due to Vhaeraun’s mercy or his own complete exhaustion, the cleric soon found himself drifting off into a proper rest, distinctly lacking in spiders or any who would claim rule over them.

Though he had no doubt that they would return later on.

03042Z� |�

#D&D #Thuss #D&D story #Dear god it's 11 pages long #IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE #BUT THEN THINGS GOT OUT OF HAND

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