Role

Chapter 4

The monolith was still, the magic embedded in it continuously counting
the time, uncaring of the dark elves immersed in the chaos of battle.
Initially, one might have thought that it was a celebration, if the
battle was in the surface, for the graceful and flowing movements of
the drows were toned to perfection and somewhat reminiscent of an
Emperor's court. However, the fresh corpses on the ground, each with
a gurgle of blood from their mouth, demonstrated the lethality of
this dance.

Amidst the chaos, even darker than their brethren, several dark-elves
appeared and disappeared with only a single *THUD* of a fresh corpse
as a witness to their existance. This was where they flourished,
every curve and crevice of the city memorized, as they secretly and
silently weaved a path of corpses. As each moment passed, with only
the silence of the grave as their tribute, they inched closer to the
House of the First Matron Mother. The guards were but paper, their
weapons useless toys beyond those that even outmatched the skills of
their renown prowess. They were occupied with the "distraction" -
a wave of priests, mages, and warriors from the Second House. It was
a full scale invasion, a passage of power that spanned ages within
the dark-elven society, toward the First House.

*THUD* *THUD* *THUD*. The three guards at the entrance of the House,
as alert as they were, fell to the ground before they remembered to
breathe. Tne shadows gracefully glided over the bodies, their nearly
imperceptible presence leaving a brief space through the dust. The
front door of the House, embroidered with intricate designs praising
the Spider Goddess, loomed before them. There was no door handle -
only a concrete wall with small cracks that barely outlined it's
presence. One of the Shadows placed her long feminine hands before
the door and slowly traced a pattern along the carvings with great
precision. The door glowed briefly as it opened on it's own. The
shadows have reached the House.

Bypassing the heavily guarded corridors, weaving through the many
traps along the trail, and even taming the unnatural creatures set
as sentries, the chamber of the First Matron Mother was an easy and
unhindered path. A magnificent sight appeared before them - an
ancient dark elf sitting upon an altar. Wrinkles, unheard of in the
drow society, enveloped her face, complementing the white irises
within her eyes. She appeared tired, weary...and strangely
unperturbed before her would be assassins. In an old raspy voice,
quiet unlike those of her kin, the First whispered,

"Vehldriss Velg'larn...you have finally come."

The leader of the shadows carefully removed the scarf and mask
covering her face, the same face as the First, except much younger.
The heightened sense of emotion from the murders were evident on
her face, yet they were nothing compared to the loathing and greed
expressed through her voice.

"Yes Mother. As you have told me, when you abandoned me in the caves
so long ago."

The First smiled slightly as she rose from the altar. The shadows,
so skilled in their art and stoic in the face of an army, flinched
as various daggers emerged in their hands.

"And what did I tell you, my child?"

"To survive Mother."

The cackle of the ag