First Entrance
The faint sound of chanting that is in the background has a frantic note to it and there is the scent of blood, sulfur and musty sickly-sweet incense that fades into nothingness when the sound dissipates. Somewhere out there, four priestesses assume that their offering was accepted; and a dark goddess assumes her traitorous prey is in the hands of a god of the dead who will stick him into a wall, to be used as a brick or some similar task.
They're all very wrong.
There is a drow, laid out on the floor of the bar, unconscious. He's fully clothed, armored in the way of his kind, pwiwafwi, hidden weapons and all. His two blades are scattered on the floor, both sheathed.
It takes him a few minutes to wake up and the first thing he does is to bring his arm to cover his eyes and moan in pain. The lights of the Bar are blinding to eyes used to the dim faerie fire lights of Menzoberranzan and the darkness of the UnderDark.
It probably doesn't help that he has a horrible ache in his chest, and the last thing he remembers was his Matron as she ripped out his heart with a dagger.
"Vith. Is this the hells?"
They're all very wrong.
There is a drow, laid out on the floor of the bar, unconscious. He's fully clothed, armored in the way of his kind, pwiwafwi, hidden weapons and all. His two blades are scattered on the floor, both sheathed.
It takes him a few minutes to wake up and the first thing he does is to bring his arm to cover his eyes and moan in pain. The lights of the Bar are blinding to eyes used to the dim faerie fire lights of Menzoberranzan and the darkness of the UnderDark.
It probably doesn't help that he has a horrible ache in his chest, and the last thing he remembers was his Matron as she ripped out his heart with a dagger.
"Vith. Is this the hells?"