Rise of the Blade - Charles Moffat [10]
He puffed on his cigar and walked away, enjoying the night air and the sickly sweet pleasures of a good smoke. Being a drow, he slept or stayed in doors a lot during the day, and only came out at night if he could help it. In the day the sun hurt his eyes and effected his ability to cast spells, fight and otherwise.
Why did he always refer to it as otherwise? He had made a fair profit thieving in the past. Was he growing restless again? Perhaps, he conceded and blew some smoke through his nose, feeling the burning sensation in his nostrils. Were it not for the fact that his favourite spell required cigars he would have stopped this habit long ago.
Well, maybe not. No point being dishonest with himself. He truly liked how confident he felt when the opponent was casting spells furiously, whereas he puffed away, waiting for the last possible second to throw his cigar almost dart-like. And then take out another cigar and light it on any ashes that were left of the person.
"A pleasant evening isn't it?" A large seven-foot tall figure loomed out of the darkness. Eight spider-like feet clawed the ground and a horribly twisted figure became distinct. It looked to be half-drow half-spider.
The supple drow, all reflexes and grace looked even now upon the grotesque figure of the drider with disgust. He pushed away his feelings and looked the drider in the eye despite the monster's good foot of extra height. "Good evening, Rambertz." He gestured to the grounds with his cigar. "How goes your gardening?"
"Very well now that those pesky bantlings are gone," the drider's deep baritone voice replied, the sound echoed in the chill night air. Normally, a drider was a bloodthirtsy creature, quite mad and most definitely dangerous, but Rambertz had been spared that fate, and perhaps that fact had made his change even more torturous.
As they are raised, the drow elves undergo many tests of servitude towards Lolth, the spider goddess. If they fail, they are punished by being misshapened and cursed to live on in the madness of being a drider. Most of these tests are purposely made by priestesses of Lolth, others are the result of fate. Rambertz passed his tests, it was fate however that had decreed that he would become a drider.
Priestesses hold power in the Church of Lolth, but Rambertz belonged to a special order of monks. Vowed to silence, obedience and to be the fodder of the Church, the young drow monk was eager to kill in servitude to his merciless goddess. Then came the fateful day he led a troop of men on a raid to the surface. In the confusion of the raid, he was separated from the soldiers
He was left behind. He was afterall, only a male, and in drow society males ranked just above slaves.
When the sun came up, he saw a beauty unknown to his underdark eyes and quickly forsook his vows to Lolth, pledging new vows to Lathander Morninglord. It was that day, his first day in the overworld, that would change his life, his outlook on it, forever. It also cursed him, for when his drow kin found out and dragged him back to face punishment, he was perverted magically into the mindless monster: a drider.
Then on a day many years ago, the madness subsided, the spell warped. Something had went wrong with the spell that had held him in servitude. With a cry of vengeance, Rambertz surged forth and killed his captors before fleeing to the surface. He could only thank the Morninglord for his sudden release.
That strange twisted path shone in the sadness that poured from Rambertz eyes. Even now as he tinkered away at night, giving the plants of the academy compound new energy through his druidic magic, he felt the pain of his curse. He stayed hidden during the day and only worked at night, the prime reason why people weren't allowed to be outside at night. During the day he transformed himself into a creature of the sun and forest,