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Travels through the Wild West: Books V-VIII (Epilogue)
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 221302" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Travels through the Wild West: Book V</p><p>Prologue</p><p></p><p></p><p>In a dark chamber situated deep under the surface of Toril, a shadowy figure stood waiting. </p><p></p><p>The place was devoid of light, but the tall stranger suffered no inconvenience at that absence. Had there been a torch or lantern present, an observer could have marked the black cloak that seemed to shimmer as it enveloped the figure, or the narrow features and ebon skin that marked him as one of the drow, the notorious bane of the Underdark. He—for the stranger appeared to be male—seemed apart from his surroundings, his dark eyes hooded with the thoughts churning deep within. </p><p></p><p>The sound of bootsteps became audible, drawing rapidly nearer from one of the several passages that opened off of the chamber. The dark elf did not stir as the sound grew louder, finally resolving into the form of an armored dwarf that appeared in one of those dark entrances.</p><p></p><p>The dwarf—or more precisely, a dark dwarf, one of the race that called themselves the duergar—strode forward with confidence to confront the dark elf. Her armor, painstakingly crafted for silence, made barely a whisper of sound as she moved, the interlocking plates of precious adamantine fitting together around her body like a second skin. She carried a short, graven staff shod at both ends with cold iron, the tip making a slight clicking sound against the hard stone of the floor with each step she took.</p><p></p><p>The dwarf paused ten paces in front of the dark elf. With his darkvision, he could read the scowl clearly on her features as she looked up at him.</p><p></p><p>“Greetings, Shemma,” the elf said companionably. </p><p></p><p>“Why do you insist on wearing that form?” the dwarf replied, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice. </p><p></p><p>The elf shrugged idly. “It suits me. But if it offends you…”</p><p></p><p>“Bah, it is of no import. We have matters more pressing to discuss.”</p><p></p><p>“I understand that the production from the diggings has been down of late.”</p><p></p><p>The dwarf’s eyes narrowed slightly, and her gaze sharpened as if will alone would enable her to see into the mind of the other. “I have long been saying that the number of slaves we have remaining is insufficient for the task.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, you have. And perhaps, if you had paid more attention to my suggestions regarding attrition, we would not be having this conversation now.”</p><p></p><p>“It was, and is, necessary to take steps to keep the slaves in check, properly… motivated. But I am not here to offer justifications to you, Drax. If we’re to keep to your schedule, we’re going to have to take steps.”</p><p></p><p> “The schedule is not set by me,” the dark elf replied. “It cannot be amended, especially not at this point.”</p><p></p><p>“Fine then. We’ll need more slaves then, and that’s that. Brute strength is enough for the grunt work, particularly in the mithral veins—those are still sound, and they should remain true long enough to suit our needs. But those gemstones you need—we’ve had some good results from our divinations, but the information we’ve collected thus far suggests that we’re going to have to go deeper—far deeper—to get what you want.”</p><p></p><p>“And the urdunnir will not be up to this task?” the drow asked. </p><p></p><p>“Perhaps. But we cannot afford to lose any more of them, and they are coming to realize that. It is making it difficult to deal with them.”</p><p></p><p>“Maybe it is time for me to make a visit to the diggings,” the elf suggested. “Perhaps I can offer some alternative forms of… motivation, as you said.”</p><p></p><p>The dwarf nodded, the corners of her mouth twisting in a slight mockery of a smile. “Very well, then. But even so…”</p><p></p><p>“I leave the procurement of more slaves in your hands, Shemma,” the dark elf said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Perhaps that grim little assassin of yours, Grolac, and his little band…”</p><p></p><p>Shemma’s eyes narrowed yet further, until they were mere slits fixed on the dark elf. She’d believed that Grolac’s talents had been kept secret, an ace in the hole kept as a reserve. Another lesson learned in not underestimating her “ally” in this matter. </p><p></p><p>“If there was nothing else?” It was not quite a dismissal. </p><p></p><p>The dwarf’s smile faded instantly into a hard grimace. Without even a farewell, she turned and tromped off into the same dark passageway through which she had entered, making somewhat more noise in her leaving than in her arrival.</p><p></p><p>The dark elf watched her go. His expression was like an obsidian mask, betraying nothing of the thoughts or feelings underneath. He stood there, waiting, until even the echoes of the dwarf’s departure had faded. </p><p></p><p>“You may come out now,” he finally said. </p><p></p><p>In the empty darkness of the cavern above an even deeper shadow detached itself from the uneven crevices of the ceiling and drifted down to join the drow. It resembled a man in shape and size, but its broad wings, scaled skin, and demonic visage betrayed the otherworldly origin of the newcomer. A wickedly barbed tail that seemed to slash out reflexively at the air around it trailed behind its form as it landed on the floor and approached the dark elf from the side. </p><p></p><p>“The cleric, she did not seem pleased,” the demon hissed, its voice a sibilant whisper that sounded like stone scraping on stone. </p><p></p><p>“Shemma’s approval is of no importance. That she and her people deliver on their commitments, that is what concerns me.”</p><p></p><p>“Her knowledge, her power… vital to the project.”</p><p></p><p>The dark elf looked down at the demon, which despite its height stood hunched over, its claws dangling down to scrape on the stone of the floor. Something blazed in the elf’s dark eyes, and the demon drew itself down even further. </p><p></p><p>“Shemma knows not to cross me,” the drow said, and there was a hint of warning in those words. “She is ambitious, and self-serving, but she’s not stupid.”</p><p></p><p>“As you say, Great One,” the demon hissed in reply. </p><p></p><p>“The device will be completed, and it will be ready at the appointed time,” the dark elf said, and there was no hesitation, no hint of doubt in the statement. </p><p></p><p>The demon’s scaly head bobbed up and down, its forked tongue darting out to taste the air. “As you say,” it repeated. “Lord Tiamat will be pleased.”</p><p></p><p>The dark elf’s eyes narrowed as it stared down at the demon once more, and then, like the dwarf before him, he turned and departed via another of the dark passages that ringed the edges of the chamber. The demon, ignored, followed belatedly behind, and soon silence fell once again over the dark place deep under the ground.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 221302, member: 143"] Travels through the Wild West: Book V Prologue In a dark chamber situated deep under the surface of Toril, a shadowy figure stood waiting. The place was devoid of light, but the tall stranger suffered no inconvenience at that absence. Had there been a torch or lantern present, an observer could have marked the black cloak that seemed to shimmer as it enveloped the figure, or the narrow features and ebon skin that marked him as one of the drow, the notorious bane of the Underdark. He—for the stranger appeared to be male—seemed apart from his surroundings, his dark eyes hooded with the thoughts churning deep within. The sound of bootsteps became audible, drawing rapidly nearer from one of the several passages that opened off of the chamber. The dark elf did not stir as the sound grew louder, finally resolving into the form of an armored dwarf that appeared in one of those dark entrances. The dwarf—or more precisely, a dark dwarf, one of the race that called themselves the duergar—strode forward with confidence to confront the dark elf. Her armor, painstakingly crafted for silence, made barely a whisper of sound as she moved, the interlocking plates of precious adamantine fitting together around her body like a second skin. She carried a short, graven staff shod at both ends with cold iron, the tip making a slight clicking sound against the hard stone of the floor with each step she took. The dwarf paused ten paces in front of the dark elf. With his darkvision, he could read the scowl clearly on her features as she looked up at him. “Greetings, Shemma,” the elf said companionably. “Why do you insist on wearing that form?” the dwarf replied, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice. The elf shrugged idly. “It suits me. But if it offends you…” “Bah, it is of no import. We have matters more pressing to discuss.” “I understand that the production from the diggings has been down of late.” The dwarf’s eyes narrowed slightly, and her gaze sharpened as if will alone would enable her to see into the mind of the other. “I have long been saying that the number of slaves we have remaining is insufficient for the task.” “Yes, you have. And perhaps, if you had paid more attention to my suggestions regarding attrition, we would not be having this conversation now.” “It was, and is, necessary to take steps to keep the slaves in check, properly… motivated. But I am not here to offer justifications to you, Drax. If we’re to keep to your schedule, we’re going to have to take steps.” “The schedule is not set by me,” the dark elf replied. “It cannot be amended, especially not at this point.” “Fine then. We’ll need more slaves then, and that’s that. Brute strength is enough for the grunt work, particularly in the mithral veins—those are still sound, and they should remain true long enough to suit our needs. But those gemstones you need—we’ve had some good results from our divinations, but the information we’ve collected thus far suggests that we’re going to have to go deeper—far deeper—to get what you want.” “And the urdunnir will not be up to this task?” the drow asked. “Perhaps. But we cannot afford to lose any more of them, and they are coming to realize that. It is making it difficult to deal with them.” “Maybe it is time for me to make a visit to the diggings,” the elf suggested. “Perhaps I can offer some alternative forms of… motivation, as you said.” The dwarf nodded, the corners of her mouth twisting in a slight mockery of a smile. “Very well, then. But even so…” “I leave the procurement of more slaves in your hands, Shemma,” the dark elf said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Perhaps that grim little assassin of yours, Grolac, and his little band…” Shemma’s eyes narrowed yet further, until they were mere slits fixed on the dark elf. She’d believed that Grolac’s talents had been kept secret, an ace in the hole kept as a reserve. Another lesson learned in not underestimating her “ally” in this matter. “If there was nothing else?” It was not quite a dismissal. The dwarf’s smile faded instantly into a hard grimace. Without even a farewell, she turned and tromped off into the same dark passageway through which she had entered, making somewhat more noise in her leaving than in her arrival. The dark elf watched her go. His expression was like an obsidian mask, betraying nothing of the thoughts or feelings underneath. He stood there, waiting, until even the echoes of the dwarf’s departure had faded. “You may come out now,” he finally said. In the empty darkness of the cavern above an even deeper shadow detached itself from the uneven crevices of the ceiling and drifted down to join the drow. It resembled a man in shape and size, but its broad wings, scaled skin, and demonic visage betrayed the otherworldly origin of the newcomer. A wickedly barbed tail that seemed to slash out reflexively at the air around it trailed behind its form as it landed on the floor and approached the dark elf from the side. “The cleric, she did not seem pleased,” the demon hissed, its voice a sibilant whisper that sounded like stone scraping on stone. “Shemma’s approval is of no importance. That she and her people deliver on their commitments, that is what concerns me.” “Her knowledge, her power… vital to the project.” The dark elf looked down at the demon, which despite its height stood hunched over, its claws dangling down to scrape on the stone of the floor. Something blazed in the elf’s dark eyes, and the demon drew itself down even further. “Shemma knows not to cross me,” the drow said, and there was a hint of warning in those words. “She is ambitious, and self-serving, but she’s not stupid.” “As you say, Great One,” the demon hissed in reply. “The device will be completed, and it will be ready at the appointed time,” the dark elf said, and there was no hesitation, no hint of doubt in the statement. The demon’s scaly head bobbed up and down, its forked tongue darting out to taste the air. “As you say,” it repeated. “Lord Tiamat will be pleased.” The dark elf’s eyes narrowed as it stared down at the demon once more, and then, like the dwarf before him, he turned and departed via another of the dark passages that ringed the edges of the chamber. The demon, ignored, followed belatedly behind, and soon silence fell once again over the dark place deep under the ground. [/QUOTE]
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