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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Olgar Shiverstone" data-source="post: 1740662" data-attributes="member: 5868">One year earlier ... The drow woman sneered as the snivelling elf rogue beat a hasty retreat to the surface.  Surface dwellers, always so weak."Search the others, and determine what they carry and how many live.  Nightscale will want a tribute."Her minions rapidly searched the party of surface raiders, determining that though some were close to death's door, all still retained some grip on life.  The remaining wizard brought those things that retained magical auras to her, among them a great bastard sword whose runes named Glorytongue in the surface dialect, and a curious floating spellbook."Nightscale will be pleased with this tribute.  Feed him the dwarf as well, lest he get hungry.  Strip the rest, and bind them to the pack lizards.  We'll deliver them to the slave market at Szith Morcane."----Erik awoke in the pitch dark.  He was weak and woozy, but he lived, though his armor and his sword Glorytongue had been stripped from him.  Some creature was trying to push a waterskin into his mouth, speaking in some unintelligible tongue.Suddenly the area was lit with a blast of arcane fire, to reveal Thane standing surrounded by dark elves, stripped to his loincloth, but cradling balls of fire in each hand.  The flames burst on one of the shorter males, as a female with a double sword sneaked up behind Thane and bashed him back into unconsciousness.The bard -- what was his name again? -- attempted to begin a chant, but the drow woman gleefull spun, slicing through the bard's windpipe with one blade of her sword, then severing his head with the second."Resistance is useless, surface scum, " the drow woman hissed in accented common.  "Cooperate, and live as slaves, or die now!"  Turning to her minions holding Thane, she said: "That one obviously retains some sorcerous powers, even without a spellbook.  Slit his throat!"The deed was quickly carried out, and as the drow began to pack up their belongings, Thane's blood pooled beneath him on the cool stone of the passage.In the light of the fading wizard's fire, Erik could see Bartol sheltering Bernadette, who was huddled next to the barbarian for warmth and protection.  Erik and Bartol's eyes met, and Bartol gave a brief shake of his head.  Not now, another time.  We are too weak, yet.---Days, perhaps weeks, passed.  Time was impossible to determine during their long trek in the pitch blackness.  They would periodically stop and be given mosses and water, but otherwise exsitence was an endless black night from which the stars had been erased.Finally, though, they emerged into a phosphorescent fungi-lit chamber that was clustered about with all manner of strange subterrenean creatures.  Blinking his eyes against the sudden glare -- what would have been the light of at best a full moon seemed high noon after the long trek in the darkness -- Erik could see their captor bartering with some fish-men and a strange purple humanoid with a tentacled head and pupilless eyes.Bartol and Bernadette sat on the ground next to Erik, looking pale and haggard, thinned from the days of short rations.  Bernadette's lower belly was bulging -- perhaps the result of their celebration months before?  Bartol's beard was wild and unkempt, and appeared to steel himself for some readied action.Soon the drow woman returned, followed by a fish man and the purple tentacled thing.  The preisoners' chains were separated. "Good news," she hissed in her accented Common, "you get to live another day.  But perhaps only that, tall one, since Ooltul here has a liking for fresh brains!  The Kuo-toa get the bearded one to serve in their temple, and you, sweet thing, shall raise your child to be a thrall of Lloth in the blessed city of Maerimydra."  She cackled, and began leading Bernadette away, handing Erik's chains to the purple thing, and Bartol's to the fish men.Bartol lunged against his chains, trying to reach Bernadette.  "Bartol, wait!" Erik shouted, attempting to wrest free of his chains -- but Bartol was quickly beaten into unconsciousness."Feisty," came the bubbling voice of the purple thing.  "Perhaps I will not feast on you yet -- you have the strength to carry some things back to Messazine for me.  But that grating, surface voice!  Something must be done about it!!Smooth, cool hands grabbed Erik's head roughly, forcing his mouth open and pulling his tongue so hard he thought it would snap from his jaw.  There was sudden pain ...As he collapsed into darkness, he heard: "Silly slave.  I'll let you live this day; I'll probably just suck your brain in the morning."He was to hear that same phrase from his master each day for nearly a year.  "Silly slave.  I'll let you live this day; I'll probably just suck your brain in the morning."</blockquote>

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