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Cydra: the Early Years
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 1761233" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>Arvandor Illspree, whose name is Drow for <em>the birth of evil in heaven,</em> reclines on a seat that is almost a throne. It is constructed of black stone, with sharp spires that stab upward behind Illspree’s head. The seat looks cruel; Arvandor Illspree within the seat seems as cruel at least, with his ringed fingers tapering to sharp painted nails and his frosty white beard curling arrogantly below his chin. He wears robes of a dusty dark hue, a jet black cloak behind him. His skin is jet black. He is a Drow.</p><p></p><p>“You seek me?” he asks idly, speaking in the tongue of surface elves. His face is relaxed, but his eyes are predatory.</p><p></p><p>“If you are indeed Arvandor Illspree, great and powerful mage, we humbly beg a moment of your most valuable time.” Delilah gives the Drow her best smile and drops to one knee, bowing her head. After an instant’s hesitation, the others follow suit.</p><p></p><p>Illspree seems somewhat amused, as do his dark elven companions. There are several chuckles. Glancing around, Urdor estimates that the party is outnumbered at least 2:1. <em>And these are Drow,</em> he reminds himself fearfully. <em>Each of them is worth two, or more, if the legends be true. By Bleak, I pray we do not have to face them all!</em></p><p></p><p>“We seek knowledge that is hidden from us, and things we cannot find on our own. Only a masterful puissant wizard such as yourself could possible aid us. We seek to overthrow a great servant of the Light, and we are searching for an item to aid us in our struggle.” Delilah looks Arvandor Illspree in the eye. “We believe that, if anyone can help us find what we seek, it is you.”</p><p></p><p>“And what is it you seek, child?” sneers Illspree. </p><p></p><p>Delilah bridles at his words, but remains diplomatic. After a bare instant’s pause, she masters her tongue and responds, “We seek an amulet that can shield our minds from Dexter’s psychic powers.”</p><p></p><p>“Ahhh,” the Drow nods. “I know of what you speak. But why should I help you?”</p><p></p><p>“Perhaps we can do something for you in return.”</p><p></p><p>One of the Drow on the side speaks up. <em>”Zila eclaveveda ti rothip’ek, mel ti Lesaonar.”</em> There are a few quiet chuckles. Illspree smiles. </p><p></p><p>“Very well,” he intones. “If you can retrieve the staff of Lesaonar for me, I will give you the amulet you seek.” He smiles. “That is, if you are willing?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” Chanticleer says without hesitation. “Who is Lesaonar?”</p><p></p><p>“He is a drider, but a... special one. You will know him by his tail. Now, prepare yourselves!” Arvandor Illspree rises, his teeth bared in a fierce snarl, and begins casting a spell. But-</p><p></p><p><em>He’s not doing it right,</em> Delilah think. <em>It’s too haphazard- he’s outside the forms in many places. He’s playing with dangerous forces... I don’t even know if his spell will work right...</em></p><p></p><p>And then she realizes, <em>He’s a wild mage.</em> </p><p></p><p>Suddenly the air around the party twists, and there’s a ringing sound, and suddenly everything <em>slides away;</em> and then, just like that, the party is picking themselves up off of a blasted landscape of black and grey stones jumbled like volcanic basalts as a group of demons lurches towards them shrieking. The sky is the color of blood, and there is no sun.</p><p></p><p>“Sweet darkness, he shifted us to the Abyss,” whispers Delilah, stunned.</p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> Lookin’ for the staff of Lesaonar on the Abyss!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 1761233, member: 1210"] Arvandor Illspree, whose name is Drow for [i]the birth of evil in heaven,[/i] reclines on a seat that is almost a throne. It is constructed of black stone, with sharp spires that stab upward behind Illspree’s head. The seat looks cruel; Arvandor Illspree within the seat seems as cruel at least, with his ringed fingers tapering to sharp painted nails and his frosty white beard curling arrogantly below his chin. He wears robes of a dusty dark hue, a jet black cloak behind him. His skin is jet black. He is a Drow. “You seek me?” he asks idly, speaking in the tongue of surface elves. His face is relaxed, but his eyes are predatory. “If you are indeed Arvandor Illspree, great and powerful mage, we humbly beg a moment of your most valuable time.” Delilah gives the Drow her best smile and drops to one knee, bowing her head. After an instant’s hesitation, the others follow suit. Illspree seems somewhat amused, as do his dark elven companions. There are several chuckles. Glancing around, Urdor estimates that the party is outnumbered at least 2:1. [i]And these are Drow,[/i] he reminds himself fearfully. [i]Each of them is worth two, or more, if the legends be true. By Bleak, I pray we do not have to face them all![/i] “We seek knowledge that is hidden from us, and things we cannot find on our own. Only a masterful puissant wizard such as yourself could possible aid us. We seek to overthrow a great servant of the Light, and we are searching for an item to aid us in our struggle.” Delilah looks Arvandor Illspree in the eye. “We believe that, if anyone can help us find what we seek, it is you.” “And what is it you seek, child?” sneers Illspree. Delilah bridles at his words, but remains diplomatic. After a bare instant’s pause, she masters her tongue and responds, “We seek an amulet that can shield our minds from Dexter’s psychic powers.” “Ahhh,” the Drow nods. “I know of what you speak. But why should I help you?” “Perhaps we can do something for you in return.” One of the Drow on the side speaks up. [i]”Zila eclaveveda ti rothip’ek, mel ti Lesaonar.”[/i] There are a few quiet chuckles. Illspree smiles. “Very well,” he intones. “If you can retrieve the staff of Lesaonar for me, I will give you the amulet you seek.” He smiles. “That is, if you are willing?” “Yes,” Chanticleer says without hesitation. “Who is Lesaonar?” “He is a drider, but a... special one. You will know him by his tail. Now, prepare yourselves!” Arvandor Illspree rises, his teeth bared in a fierce snarl, and begins casting a spell. But- [i]He’s not doing it right,[/i] Delilah think. [i]It’s too haphazard- he’s outside the forms in many places. He’s playing with dangerous forces... I don’t even know if his spell will work right...[/i] And then she realizes, [i]He’s a wild mage.[/i] Suddenly the air around the party twists, and there’s a ringing sound, and suddenly everything [i]slides away;[/i] and then, just like that, the party is picking themselves up off of a blasted landscape of black and grey stones jumbled like volcanic basalts as a group of demons lurches towards them shrieking. The sky is the color of blood, and there is no sun. “Sweet darkness, he shifted us to the Abyss,” whispers Delilah, stunned. [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] Lookin’ for the staff of Lesaonar on the Abyss! [/QUOTE]
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