Role

Chapter 2

The matron screamed as the glowing brand was pressed hard into her bosom. A loud hiss, the smell of charred flesh. In their aftermath an ugly, raw wound - a mark of the phoenix. She groaned, sobbing, as she surveyed the devastation about her.

It took alot to break a drow matron of Teth Azeleth, but this one was broken. Broken beyond repair. At her feet, her five daughters - slain. Even the youngest, barely a month old, who - just minutes ago - had been sucking at her teat.

Further afield, all about her, dead and dying attendants and soldiers. Not least among them her two consorts, each bearing such horrific wounds as only Maran blades could inflict. Silently, a servant girl watched - a plain dagger held close.

The tears on the girl's cheeks had dried. She could only continue to observe silently, from the shadows, as her mistress was taunted and tortured. By the time the humans and storm giants were done, there was no longer a drow matron there.

Only the shell, the husk of one. Stripped naked, her once-proud form glistening with blood and sweat, covered with bite, burn and scratch marks. The so-called Marans were done, gone from that place. But this once-matron? She too was done.

The girl crept out of hiding towards her mistress. Her face, once innocent, was now a mask of studied calm. Within her, emotions roiled - fury, grief, terror... pity. "Please... my baby...", the once-matron rasped, choking.

The girl's eyes turned to the broken form of the child at their feet. Eyes soft nevermore but henceforth hard, harder than the foundation stones of Teth Azeleth. Silently, she embraced a broken once-mother. Silently, her dagger found its mark.

"Yes, broken beyond repair...", she whispered to herself.