Role

Chapter 4

The voice spoke with a thick, Drowish accent: "Tell me boy,
do you hate your family as they hate you?" The slender Drow
stepped from the shadows up to the bars of the pen and spoke
once more: "Of course you do. How could you not? Then tell
me this: would you really like to see him rewarded with the
Throne of the Slavemasters?" sindrir thought for a short
moment and then replied: "Only thing that basterd deserves
is a shallow grave." The Drow smiled, her teeth a bright
white which stood out against the darkness. "Then you have
a friend in us, boy. We will be in touch."

Hours later Sindrir was released from the pen by his brother.
"Ya damn lucky Pa smoothed that over or it'd be yer head on
that pike." Sindrir looked over by the gates and saw the
familiar face of Harstra looking back at him. Behind his
head were four more pikes with the heads of other diners
from the night before. The brute force had gotten Velger
the support he wanted for his devious plot. What he didn't
account for was that the crafty Drow did not truly support
his aims. Their allegiance was a lie.

Sindrir was again visited by the same Drow in the dead of
night in his chambers. She delivered him ten vials of a
pulsating, thick green liquid. "The King of Aran'gird
appreciates your cooperation, boy. He has said that when
this is over you will inherit all your fathers wealth.
Just put in their drinks and the future belongs to you."
with that the Drow was gone and Sindrir was left with the
decision of his short life. Would he kill his own blood
or live the rest of his days as a worthless welp? As he
struggled with his options he was interrupted by his
brother: "Sindy, get yer arse into the kitchen with the
other women and make us some fargin' food."

Sindrir nodded and hid the vials in his cloak. He delivered
several rounds of drinks to his father and brothers, waiting
until they good and drunk before he slipped the venom into
their drinks. The harsh poison stained the pale shade of
their ale but the drunken lot did not take notice. They
drank it down swiftly and Sindrir watched with anxious
anticipation. His younger brothers were the first to show
symptoms, then his elders and then finally his father.

(continued)