(no subject)
Aerie
Viconia: So, sister of light, they tell me you were of the winged folk.
Aerie: I - I don’t know what you are after, drow. Stay away from me.
Viconia: But you have lost your wings and fallen ... what a pity. Perhaps you shall join me below and I shall teach you the ways of the dark goddess.
Aerie: Get away from me, Viconia! I - I want nothing to do with your type and you’ll not get me down there!
Viconia: It must be crushing to your flimsy spirit that you once soared with eagles on wings crafted by angels and now you’re but a sad urchin, covered in dust of an earth you once rode wind above.
Aerie: Viconia, why are you so cruel? There’s absolutely no reason to be so foul and petty. No reason at all.
Viconia: Stop whining, magpie. Oh terribly sorry, bird metaphors are forbidden because you can’t fly anymore.
Anomen
(If CHARNAME is male and her romance is in progress)
Viconia: Anomen, tell me what drew such a handsome, powerful and charismatic individual like yourself to the dreary, hectic life of adventuring?
Anomen: Handsome? Viconia, I’m flattered. What drew? What I do is not for whim, prank or jape. It is not because of duty or allegiance. I am an instrument of justice, a redeemer of the weak, protector of the righteous and fallen alike. I do this because I am compelled by forces beyond my ken. You?
Viconia: Well, noble one, it seemed like a good idea at the time. And it seemed to me that all the most muscular and attractive men were doing it so ...
Anomen: Well, Viconia, you don’t have to sleep so far away, next time. Your hands across these muscles would be more welcome than the brush of canvas, I’d venture.
(CHARNAME): Anomen, snap out of it. She’s playing you like a cheap violin.
Anomen: Keep your comments to yourself, (CHARNAME).
or
(CHARNAME): Could you two wait until tonight to start talking dirty and whispering sweet nothings?
Anomen: You needn’t be so impudent, child. The woman is pleasing to the eye and doth stir the loins and I were merely complimenting upon her comeliness. Your territorial instinct is commendable, but sorely misguided. A woman’s treats are no cause.
Viconia: Are you jealous, (CHARNAME)? Poor child, there is no reason to be. I’ve no interest in this glory-hound, and he’s hardly as handsome as you.
or
(CHARNAME): Hey, Anomen, step aside! From where I’m standing, it doesn’t look much like Viconia’s buying what you’re selling!
Anomen: I disagree, (CHARNAME). You’re over there, I’m over here, and Viconia is certainly most interested in what I may have to offer her.
(CHARNAME): And who would be foolish enough to cast blame? After all, we are all fully cognizant of this group dynamic, and are equally informed of who the true leader is, (CHARNAME).
Anomen: And what would you do if I don’t move away? Berate me, coward? Tell me a story about Gorion until I fall asleep?
(CHARNAME): Let’s just keep it together and let this slide. It’s not worth arguing about.
Anomen: Hah! Typical! You’re worse than a bureaucrat. All talk, no action. It’s all I’ve come to expect from you, (CHARNAME). Filling the air with words and not song of steel.
Cernd
Viconia: Treehugger, I’ve a question for you: “If a tree falls in the forest, does anybody care?”
Cernd: You’ve a nerve, Viconia. Anger and pain is your home, and a woeful, cold place it must be. My brothers celebrate life, renewal, the parliament of trees and the splendour of nature’s bounty. Shar and her ilk revere entropy, revenge, and darkness. Viconia, you and I will never see eye-to-eye and that covenant should be respected and maintained. And to answer your question, yes ... we do care.
Viconia: Your kindred are a scourge, defending birds, trees, brooks ... the dirt. It illustrates your inability to relate to anything with two legs and a language.
* TOB *
Cernd: You’ve been on the surface for quite some time now, Viconia. Tell me ... have you experienced the normal effects of prolonged exposure experienced by your kind?
Viconia: Such as the desire to crush the skull of an over-inquisitive ibilith? Why, yes ... the urge comes and goes.
Cernd: No, no. I was referring to the loss of your native drow abilities, like the natural resistance to magic you possess.
Viconia: I have lost my resistance to handsome males, druid. Has anyone told you how manly you are? Come closer, Cernd ... let us explore this thought further.
Cernd: Err, no thank you. My curiosity was only related to your biology, Viconia.
Viconia: I know all manner of secrets related to biology, jaluk.
Cernd: I’m ... sure you do.
Vicona: Coward.
Cernd: Perhaps, but I’m a living one. Excuse me ...
Edwin
Viconia: Dark alleyways whisper rumors of the prowess of Thayvian men, Edwin. Would this kind of vulgar tongue-wagging be claptrap or truth.
Edwin: This Thayvian male is as red-blooded as his cloak, Viconia. And has left many a concubine gasping under my erotic onslaught.
Edwin: I’ve been spying you from afar, Viconia, and your frankness, bearing, and grace have beguiled me quite profoundly.
Viconia: I’m certain there is a condition to your appraisal, Edwin. A Thayvian only has one person in their world: themselves.
Edwin: Hush, dear, nonsense. The reputation of my kindred is from untrustworthy sources. Like the dark elves, a victim of cruel machinations and falsehoods.
Viconia: Perhaps, wizard. Perhaps. Unlike yourself, however, I am an outcast from my people.
Edwin: Your brethren’s loss is our gain ... and a beautiful gain at that.
Viconia: Flattery will serve you no purpose, male. I will tell *you* when you may speak to me thus.
* TOB *
Edwin: I believe, Viconia, that I have gained a greater respect for your ... ah ... intensity through the course of our journeys.
Viconia: And I, Edwin, have grown no more appreciative of the sound of your voice since the day I first encountered its nasal whine.
Edwin: eh ...
Viconia: Walk away, Edwin. I am in no mood for you.
HaerDaelis’
HaerDaelis’: I watch you blackbird. I watch and ‘tis as if you are a dancer pinned between two panes of glass called Bliss and Rage.
Viconia: If I am a dancer, then I dance for Shar. Take your leering eyes and turn them elsewhere, planesman.
HaerDaelis’: And as for being pinned between those two panes of glass?
Viconia: I have loyalties than bind me, yes ... Do not make bravery your downfall, male. Return to your world above, these depths are not for you. Izil phor, ji harl.
Viconia: HaerDalis’, I blame you for this damnably hummable song playing again and again in my head, over and over. You are really quite a marvellous tunesmith, not to mention a clever mimic and a talented mime. Have you any new and lewd burlesque tunes that you might regale with me, musician?
HaerDalis’: Viconia, do you think that because you are bewitching in appearance and have the throaty voice of the most expensive courtesan in King Wingding’s House of Earthly Delights ... and a body built for untold pleasures that I would fall for such an old ploy? Blow a little sunshine and I will fall all over myself to gain your favour? Best think again, dark one.
Viconia: Men better than you have walked across lava to kiss a dog who’s licked my hand, actor. You’re a dreamer, bard. I’m sure you can image lots of wonderful scenes ... but they would not exceed the truth in intensity, depravity or tenure, I assure you.
HaerDalis’: Ah ... er ... pardon me a moment whilst my head implodes.
*TOB*
Viconia: I feel your eyes over me, Tiefling. Do you see something you desire?
HaerDalis’: Ah, Viconia my dusky jewel ... I was merely admiring your natural grace, your striking beauty and your exotic voice. You could surely have made a fine career on the stage.
Viconia: No doubt, my smooth-tongued bard. Yet I choose to put my talents to greater purpose.
HaerDalis’: What greater purpose could there be? ‘Tis truly noble to court the approval of the audience.
Viconia: In drow society we have no use for the theater. We act and dissemble to advance our station. An unconvincing performance ends not with boos and catcalls, but with a slow and painful death. No use for theater? Please excuse this wounded sparrow’s heart, but I must retreat beneath the onslaught of pain such a harsh and unimaginable world brings to my heart.
Imoen
*TOB*
Viconia: I am curious over something, Imoen. Your sibling save you from imprisonment and restored your soul. Yet for all this you have never showed proper gratitude. Why is that?
Imoen: Proper gratitude? I’d hate to think what your idea of proper gratitude would be, Viconia.
Viconia: You owe (CHARNAME) your entire being. You should, at the very least, act as (HIS or HER) personal slave. Cater to (HIS or HER) every whim.
Imoen: (CHARNAME) is my (BROTHER or SISTER), you know! I owe (HIM or HER) my life, but let’s not take it that far!
Viconia: Your common parent is a god. That hardly counts towards any sort of common genetic bond, and even less of a reason to shirk what you owe (CHARNAME).
Imoen: (CHARNAME) and I grew up together. I love (HIM or HER) just as I loved Gorion. (CHARNAME) may feel differently, I don’t know ... but it doesn’t matter. Come what may, no matter how bad things get or what (CHARNAME) does, I’ll stick by (HIS or HER) side. I would die for (HIM or HER), Viconia. I would give up the soul that (HE or SHE) saved for (HIM or HER).
Viconia: Well, that would be a start.
Imoen: What about you, Viconia? How many times has (CHARNAME) saved *your* life? Would you do the same for (HIM or HER)? Would you put *your* life on the line?
(If Viconia romance is in progress)
Viconia: I ... I would. I love (HIM or HER) and you know this weakness of mine exists. Perhaps it is good that we have ... something ... in common, no? But enough of your mewling ... let us be off.
(If there is no romance)
Viconia: I ... that was not the question, elg’caress. I support (CHARNAME) and always have and I will not have you question me. Let us be off.
Jaheira
Viconia: Tell me, Harper, who was who with your parentage? Father the darthir, mother the rivvil? Or father human, mother elven? It’s always confusing with crossbred mongrels.
Jaheira: Two people in love, swine. A rain not likely to soak your parade of scabbed obscenity anytime soon.
Jaheira: Avert your eyes, dark elf. I’ll not have you taint the beauty of the wood with your poison gaze.
Viconia: Would you deny me even the sight of the trees, Jaheira? I can appreciate the strength of the oak, even though I would never live amongst them.
Jaheira: I am not to be swayed by your words, creature. I know too much of you and your kind.
Viconia: Ooo, such delicious fire, though better it was turned on an enemy. I would be your ally, Jaheira; your strength might even bring you respect among my kind.
Jaheira: Lies. Such respect would grant me naught but a bigger tombstone, or a nameless grave in a slightly nicer tunnel.
Viconia: Granted you might not live to make that favorable impression, but I still say that it is so. Take that as you will.
Jan Jansen
Jan: So, Viconia, I suppose you must be a drow, eh?
Viconia: Speak not to your betters, surface slave.
Jan: My brother, Elgar Buttercup, had skin the shade of charcoal, too. Well, technically it WAS charcoal. He died in a nasty fire, you see.
Viconia: You do love the sound of your own voice, don’t you gnome?
Jan: My own voice? Heartless wench! Do you not know? I am deaf! I have never heard the sound of my own voice. I read lips ... (sob) ... only lips.
Viconia: Deaf? Truly? In the Underdark the deaf are killed or used in pain threshold experiments.
Jan: I heard that! In fact, it reminds me of the time I was eaten by an avatar of Lolth. I was stuck inside her stomach with a miserable drow called Biffle Chump for days. Of course, I was forced to eat him. A matter of survival, you understand. Nothing personal. He tasted a bit like chicken.
Viconia: (CHARNAME), how is it that you travel with such a wee buffoon?
(CHARNAME): Hey, don’t look at me! You got him started.
Jan: What I would have given for just a pinch of pepper!
Viconia: I refuse to listen to this.
Or
(CHARNAME): Truthfully, it all goes back to the time that Jan’s cousin, Plooty paladin-piper, got caught in a nasty flesh golem eating contest ...
Jan: Aye, Plooty had a way of attracting golems. Brilliant, really. You start with a saucer of milk - golems are suckers for milk ...
Viconia: I refuse to listen to this.
*TOB*
Viconia: Jan. While I would be tempted to let this situation play itself out, perhaps it is best if I warn you now.
Jan: Yeeeessss, my dusky little margarita? What warning would that be?
Viconia: You have a venomous spider on your neck. A lovely creature, known to cause an agonizing, blood-curdling death within moments of injecting its nerve poison.
Jan: You know, this reminds me of the time Uncle Scratchy laid me flat with the handle of a horseman’s flail. ‘Look behind you!’, he says. ‘Why? What’s behind me?’, I say. ‘A Tiberian Dung Beetle!’, he cries, looking frantic. So of course I scream in terror and look behind me ... and lost a bag of the most scrumptuous turnips to ever come out of Scornubel. Ma Jansen was furious and the lump was more painful than six weeks with the Calimshite Itch.
Viconia: Oh, look. There it goes down the back of your shirt.
Jan: And then there was that time I took a drow at his word. ‘Bifflechips’, says I, ‘you had better be telling the truth.’ And, of course, he swore up and down that he was. Needless to say, not four weeks later I was stewing in the lower intestines of a giant cave wyrm without even so much as a torch or a sense of irony. I would have been a goner if gnomes weren’t known for causing severe bouts of intestinal gas.
Viconia: I wouldn’t squirm about so much, you foolish jaluk. You’re likely to anger it, and I have no spells to counteract its particular poison.
Jan: Now, if I had a copper for every time - eh, wait a second. I feel something ... who’s behind me? What *is* that back there?
Viconia: Did I not try to tell you? No doubt it is sinking its fangs into your gamey flesh as we speak.
Jan: What? But I -ouch! AHHHH! AHHHH, NOOO! I’M TOO YOUNG A GNOME TO DIE!! HELP ME, SOMEONE! AN ANTIDOTE, AN ANTIDOTE!! PAIN GIVES ME GAS! AHHHH!! I DON’T WANT TO - eh? Wait a minute, that’s a fly. A dead fly. You mean I ripped off my own shirt for nothing?
Viconia: Ha ha! Sometimes life has its little rewards. Even for the drow.
Jan: You’re a cruel, cruel woman, Viconia. Garl help me, but I am so turned on right now.
Viconia: Alright, now I’m leaving.
Keldorn
Viconia: My Mistress of the Gray Waste is not deserving of her reputation. There are no hatreds so petty, Keldorn, as to compel forgiveness. As I’m certain you’re well aware, all pains are hidden. The mandate of your loyal order is deception and ruse, so misery is just another disguise for your gang of holy thugs agena is my guess. Yes?
Keldorn: Shar is a perverse travesty, drow. Her cult is seething with evil and bitter yield. She’s a coven for the morose and the pathetic. Add another slight to the Order and you’ll not reckon her secrets in the world of the living. Do you understand me, witch? Not another word in my direction. EVER.
Viconia: Stay your hostility, paladin, I seek no conflict with you or your order. I’ve witnessed your sargh and steeaka firsthand. My humblest apologies, suliss.
Keldorn: I urge you to reconsider the sheltering of this drow! However desperate be our mission, we make it worse by sheltering a demon such as she!
Viconia: Do you have a problem with my presence, male?
Keldorn: Aye, I do, drow. And if you last another day with this party, I shall do us all a favor and spit you on my blade.
Viconia: I look forward to your attempt ... and to turning it against you.
Keldorn: You time is done, drow. I gave you your warning.
Viconia: How noble ... and how foolish.
(Keldorn and Viconia fight)
Korgan
Viconia: Korgan, I’m interested in whether your clan has ever had interaction with House De’Vir. It seems to me, if memory serves, that our sphere of influence was quite close to your Bloodaxe clan’s stronghold near Talthalra Wern’nt Szithla Har’oloth.
Korgan: Nay speak that vile tongue to me, blackskin. If it moves, I’ve killed it, but if it be drow, I’ve tortured it fer days, first. As fer that house of yers, I burned it and relieved meself on the dead and embers. And the necklace of darkelf ears fetched me a king’s ransom in Waterdeep.
*TOB*
Viconia: By the grace of Shar, what is that foul stench? *gag* Korgan, could you not have the decency to stand downwind of me?
Korgan: The only time I stand downwind of a dark elf is when I’m looking to add to my collection of drow ears! But dannae worry, ye dark witch, yer time will come.
Viconia: Toss your idle threats elsewhere, hargluk. I tolerate your presence for the same reason my kin tolerate your kind in the Underdark ... you are a useful servant. But servants are easy to replace.
Korgan: Ye think yer healin’ powers make ye indispensable, drow? I wonder, can ye raise yerself from the dead if I slit yer dusky throat?
Viconia: And why have you not already done so, Korgan? Like all your kind you lack the courage to act when you fear the consequences of failure. That is why the drow use your kin as slaves. Ah ... the wind has shifted. I now have no reason to continue this discussion, dwarf.
Korgan: This ain’t over, wench!
Viconia: Yes, Korgan ... it is.
Mazzy
Mazzy: Listen to me, drow. Though our leader has made the foolish choice of allowing you to join this foolish party, you shall receive no welcome from me. Slayer of innocents! You taint the sun with your evil!
Viconia: You do not frighten me, tiny pretend-paladin. I’ve had taller footstools, and am little concerned with whatever brawn you dimunitive form could muster.
Mazzy: Cruel words will do you little good when your head is on a pike. Step across the line even once and I will kill you.
Viconia: We shall see when fate plays her hand who shall be the last one standing.
Minsc
Viconia: Minsc, that tattoo on your face. Does it have tribal significance or did some nursery’s fingerpainting class assault you with blue pastels?
Minsc: I do not like the tone of your voice, dark elf! The face I have is the face the ladies love! Boo love’s Minsc’s face, too. Don’t you, Boo?
*TOB*
Viconia: Minsc, I am finding myself unable to deny your effectiveness in battle.
Minsc: Eh ... Boo, was that a compliment?
Viconia: Oh, it was, and your response is the reason for my query. Just how old is Boo?
Minsc: Boo? He is young by the standards of his miniature giant cohorts.
Viconia: So he has succeeded the normal lifespan of a normal rodent of his type?
Minsc: I believe he takes offense to the term ‘rodent’.
Viconia: Perhaps be bears examining. Some form of exploratory dissection. It was an art in my homeland.
Minsc: You know, try as he might, Boo just doesn’t get your kind of humour.
Nalia
Viconia: So, Nalia, saved any poor from their impoverished status lately? Perhaps that peculiar urgency of yours could be put to better use by passing out noonmeats to vagabonds and coins of the realm to every cutpurse, hm?
Nalia: Viconia, it’s simply a matter of even matter of distribution of goods. There are those whose consumption is a crime against nature, and that injustice should be corrected whenever possible.
Viconia: Your egalitarian streak is an affront to determinism. The poor remain poor because they are lacking in self-will and determination to seek higher stations. Your pity and endowments only serve to perpetuate their condition and diminish their motivation to improve their lot.
Nalia: My kinship with the disenfranchised is my own affair, Viconia. To deny the help of our fellows is cruel arrogance. And I am simply not that type of person.
Viconia: That bleeding heart of yours must cost you a small fortune in laundering. Child, you’re adrift in denial.
Sarevok
*TOB*
Viconia: Sarevok, may I share a whispered word with you?
Sarevok: Yes, drow, what is it you want?
Viconia: I miss the customs of my new homeland, like the breaking in of new pleasure slaves. The largest and the strongest were the hardest to break, but they were the most rewarding. Sarevok, I find your great size ... intriguing.
Sarevok: Were you to break me, Viconia, you might find nothing but the chill emptiness of the grave within.
Viconia: That does not repulse me as you might imagine. We drow are ever eager to broaden our ... experiences.
Sarevok: I orchestrated a war to slaughter thousands. I have felt the cold embrace of death. I have witnessed the horrors of the Abyss. But you, Viconia ... you scare me.
Viconia: Cowards everywhere I turn! If you find your courage, Sarevok, seek me out.
*TOB*
Viconia: Sarevok, have you had the opportunity to consider my earlier offer? Untold pleasures await you if you would but submit to me.
Sarevok: I have considered it, Viconia. And I must reject you and your ... temptations.
Viconia: A pity your manhood is so lacking. I am a cruel mistress, but my slaves always found their subjugation to be most satisfying to their own physical desires as well.
Sarevok: When Bhaal held sway over my soul, I reveled in the bloody carnage I wrought. But my will was not my own. As captivating as your dominance might be, Viconia, I will not surrender my being to the whims of another ... be they God or drow.
Viconia: Then you are of no further interest to me, rivvel ... though I suspect your dreams will be filled with the dark imaginings of the hedonistic pleasures you have denied yourself. But even your dreams will be but a pale shadow of my true decadence.
Sarevok: Of that, Viconia, I have no doubt.
Valygar
Valygar: What a beautiful day. And what makes it even better is that I am truly a free man.
Viconia: So joyful, ranger? You find some happiness, perhaps, from the slaughter of a relative?
Valygar: I find some pleasure in being able to walk freely, drow.
Viconia: Ah. I thought perhaps it was the murder of your uncle ... or whatever he was. We have similarities in drow culture for such a thing.
Valygar: I’ll not be baited by you, Viconia. I have no pleasant thoughts about Lavok’s death.
Viconia: Indeed? You seemed eager enough before. Perhaps he was not as evil as you thought, hm? Perhaps he should have had ‘evil’ written across his chest?
Valygar: I ... I still know evil when I see it, Viconia. I am just ... just ...
Viconia: Oh, well then by all means, do point it out to me when you see it next. I would love to hear your interpretation.
Valygar: Enough! I see it well enough in you, drow! Begone!
Viconia: Valygar, do you realize that you have twigs in your hair? Dirt under your fingernails and mud on your boots? You’re a filthy mess. Mmmmm, how can I be discreet? Take a bath.
Valygar: And your point, Viconia? We’re all filthy. We’re all unwashed and tired and hungry. Shut up and tell someone who cares.