Role

Chapter 3

In an attempt to garner support for a coup Velger called
an assembly in his Hall of other Houses that were loyal
to him and also emissaries from Teth Azeleth as he felt
support from the Drows would be necessary in removing
the royal family of Aran'gird. At the front of the Hall
sat Velger at the middle of his table and four of his
sons to his left and four to the right, all dressed in
ornate battle armour. The presentation involved was
very militant and it impressed (or frightened) all the
other Duergar families in attendance. After everyone
had feasted on warg meat and copious amounts of ale
Velger began to speak bluntly about his plans.

One of the duergar in attendance was another slave trader
named Harstra. Velger had long questioned his loyalty but
he needed the trader's vast resources for a coup attempt.
Harstra was, in terms of Velger's plans, the wild card.
Harstra yelled loudly from his table, interrupting Velger:
"Ya know, I can't help but wonder: who tha 'ell made you
King? Ya gonna hold this little party and expect all these
great warriors to jus' bend knees to you because ya dressed
up all yer lads like little generals?"

The entire Hall hushed into a still quiet that was disturbed
by the snickering of a few scattered men. Velger opened his
mouth to retort but before he could shout his words the
silence was broken by Sindrir, who had been watching from
side, near the kitchens. Sindrir gave an impassioned, yet
short speech about the great deeds of his father and then
made a false claim: "My father has even slain the greatest
viper, Slitheria!" this was in reference to a legend of a
giant snake which at the depths of the Underdark's tunnels.
None of the present Age had ever seen the beast in the flesh
let alone killed it.

When Sindrir finished the Hall remained silent before loud
laughter erupted everywhere around him. Harstra yelled over
the ruckus: "Ya! Sure, he should be king cuz he killed a
non-existin' fargin' snake! That's where that sigil come
from, lad?!" he exclaimed while pointing at the large
symbol which adorned everything from chairs to banners in
the Hall. Sindrir looked at his father and saw a familiar
look of hatred. His eldest brother stomped down from the
front of the Hall and drug Sindrir out by his beard.
"Ya god-damned fool, ya be lucky if Pa don't take yer
shit lickin' tongue." With a swift kick the noble born
Sindrir found himself in a slave pen. He curled up in the
corner and listened to the party continue and then conclude.

Hours after, perhaps even a full day, he was still in the
pen. He had lost all hope and ambition, then he heard a
voice speak from the shadows.