Surviving The Time Of Troubles (Athene & Alvis Alendran)

It had all been so sudden, so abrupt. It was something that no one - not even the strongest priestesses who worshiped the Spider Queen Lolth could have foreseen. But then, even if that was the case, the better question would be whether they would even believe it?

Sure, their goddess was fickle and cruel every now and again. But to dare turn her back on her people?

No Drow would even fathom to think that would ever happen. Not once. And yet, it had. It was one of the many domino effects that arrived when the Time of Troubles also did. Yet, the presence of divine magic was only one of the many negative side effects that had come with this new era.

Even arcane magics were now gone. Worthless.

Which thus made the typically strong, dark-skinned race a now very vulnerable one, as most of the Drow tampered with magic of some sort, be it divine or otherwise.

Thankfully, there were some .... exceptions. And it was these very gifts that had kept one specific House from falling; that of the Venoch'Xuileb'Brou Clan.

Deep within the dark city of Rilauven, various Houses were trying to take advantage of the lack of holy - unholy, technically - magics being available. In every direction people could look over at; left, right, or otherwise, Houses were rising and falling faster than anyone - Hume or Drow alike - could even start to count.

As far as anyone could see or discern, these trials were finally coming to a close.

Alas, in its wake, numerous deaths and paths of destruction were left. The once glorious city was mostly ruins, coated in copious amounts of blood from anyone who had been unfortunate enough to get caught in the many frays that had taken place over the past several months.

While the Matron Mother of the Venoch'Xuileb'Brou Clan, Alaunvyll was relieved to have kept her House from all but vanishing due to unfortunate circumstances, there were a good number of additional 'things' she needed to ... fix.

Namely in the form of what she had ended up losing; her husband - which was no big deal, no were her eldest and youngest sons. Her eldest daughter - however - was another story.

She was thus left with only one child; and yet, in all irony of ironies, it was the very reason she hadn't immediately ended up becoming someone else's property. Elari was ... special. Unique. And Alaunvyll had made damn sure that the youngest of all her children had used those powers to keep her safe, even though it had been a risk with how untrained they were.

"Stop," she muttered bitterly, shooting a glare downward at one of the many slaves she'd managed to keep. Another reason she hadn't worried about losing her husband - besides the simple fact that men in this society just weren't deemed to be important for much of anything - was because he could always be replaced.

Now was a perfect example, where she could call for any slave she owned to enter her chambers and please her.

.... Except .... Alaunvyll no longer wanted to experience pleasure. Not of the carnal nature, anyway.

" ... Mistress?" the male asked, keeping his gaze lowered to the floor.

A brief pause would linger between them before Alaunvyll nodded. "Make yourself presentable. Then .... go fetch Lux."

" ... Yes, Mistress."

Knowing arguing would offer little more than a swift - and likely painful - death, the male Drow hastily got up to his feet, pulling his trousers up, The moment he left, Alauvynn took her own turn and started to follow suit, though ... many could argue she never really looked 'decent', per se.

But then, that was another difference between Drow men and women. The fairer sex were easier to identify in terms of House ranking and nobility by the amount of cloth thrown over their dark flesh. And thus in their case, less was better and therefore the typical pattern seen.

Once Alaunvyll got herself dressed and ready, she sat atop her bed, waiting for another answer to her silent prayers to arrive. Lux was yet another person whom aided Elari in keeping the Venoch'Xuileb'Brou from losing every ounce of power.

As such, it seemed only fitting to send her out on this mission.

Elari .... had been an option, yes. Still, Alaunvyll had used her daughter on more discreet tasks. There was a reason no one yet knew of her only surviving child, or what she was even fully capable of. It would only further enlarge the already huge target placed upon her back if anyone had that information.

So, for now, she would wait and receive help from the much less suspicious assistant and servant of Alaunvyll's.

The city had been in chaos. The loss of magic had been a trial and more for so many houses, and so many drow had fallen from their high places. Caution and patience were bywords for the Drow people, planning their moves very carefully, and with exacting detail. But now, scores were being settled by the score, and those that plied the trade of death by combat, they were finding themselves sought after and never short of something that needed doing.

And for some, it was not a time of troubles, but a time of pure, raucous joy.

Ktonos del Valuken, soldier to whatever house offered him the most money or bloodshed, was not at his post. With the running battles in the streets, he'd declined his post on the walls, taking himself into the street. He was not a sight that sat easily with anyone that he came across. He was a blood soaked phantom, ghosting from place to place and reaping a bloody harvest wherever he hesitated long enough to draw his blade. In most cases he simply relied on the cold edge of a long knife, but on occasion he was faced with one that put up more of a fight, or was surrounded by others, and he would reach for the blade on his back. When he did so, blood ran in small rivers, and thusly resulted in Ktonos reaching his current state.

He'd been on the hunt for nobles in particular. No noble himself, Ktonos had been naught but a simple street thug that had shown enough promise to be press ganged into the academy to try adn mold him into a proper Drow warrior. It had been a mixed result.

While he had learned enormously about the arts of war, he'd also been found to be unruly and incredibly violent, even by the standards of the Drow. Some thought him a threat, other simply a prodigy of the blade with a bright future before him. Both sides were perhaps right. His current employer was a relatively minor house, but saw this Time as a grand opportunity to make a swift rise in fortunes, and thus had little issue with Ktonos moving out to remove useful tools from the other houses that opposed them.

He slipped along the darkened wall of an estate, looking for a point along it that he might be able to scale, knowing that this might be a simple place, little mroe than a merchant, but it was close to several noble houses. a cunning noble might seek refuge within, or be seeking to negotiate terms for weapons to help defend them. Either way, it was an opportunity. Ktonos found what he'd beenlooking for a small indentation caused by a missed strike, gouging a point for him to grip. He used that point to haul himself up, then to grip the top of hte wall. His foot found the notch, and he was on the top of hte wall, checking it for guards. Only one. And looking the wrong way. Ktonos advanced quickly, one hand siezing hte mouth of his foe, and the other driving a kinfe into his chest. The heart. It was always a heart thrust in a kill like this. Ktonos rode the corpse down, laying it out on the stone before jerking the knife free. It was a swift motion that lef this knife streked in blood. He ran his tongue along the fuller of the blade, his eyes rolling back at the taste and feeling of it. It was electric, setting his nerves and senses afire for a moment. Heart blood was always the greatest rush for him, and he hunted it. Now that he had such a taste, he let himself off hte wall, and head for the estate.

Emerging from the estate less than a half hour later, Ktonos was grinning. Flames were jetting from the house, the merchant apparently having been a dealer mainly in alchemical agents, and bottled fire being a popular choice, there had been a vast stash of it all. Ktonos was leaving via the main gate, ignoring the screams of those still trapped within the building. He was carrying a trio of severed heads, two of them from female Drow. He was sure that one of them had been a noble of some kind, the other likely the head of the merchant house. The other was simply in the way. But his face was lit by a fierce grin, and the light of the flames made him seem like a bloody revenant, a spirit from beyond this world sent to reap the body and souls of those that opposed him. For Ktonos, it was simply a good day to be him.

Luckily, Alaunvyll didn't have to wait too long. The sounds of footsteps echoed throughout the halls, and soon, a figure matching those noises entered. Inside walked what one could only assume to be Lux and depending on the type of Drow House one hailed from, the sight may or may not be expected. Lux, apparently, was a hume. A female one, mind you, but one nonetheless. And yet, she was one of the few non-Drows that Alaunvyll would even start to treat with the slightest bits of respect or even dignity; which went to imply just how important Lux was to the Matron Mother.

Strapped to Lux's back was a massive, great axe. Only the most foolish people would dare to begin thinking it was a normal weapon, for it was anything but that. It was blessed - or cursed, depending on the point of view one was talking about - to 'identify' any foe in front of the female barbarian. When it was surrounded by a crimson aura, it meant Lux was facing a foe without any magical abilities. Likewise, blue meant she was going against a caster in some form or fashion. Although it may seem like an overly simple ability, it was actually quite powerful.

Of course, one had to stop and realize just how strong it could be; to warn someone who was only skilled in fighting with actual weapons but no magic who she was facing. Granted, she did have a few magical items to protect from being too direly hurt, or even worse. Those ... were discreet, hidden in plain sight. No doubt courtesy of Alaunvyll herself.

So how did a mere hume like Lux get such high favor?

That was another story for another time, and one that the Matron kept hidden from anyone she thought not important enough to know such details.

Her attention returned to the here and now as her crimson eyes saw Lux obediently sink to her knees, lowering her own head. The tell-tale and perfect pose for any servant, no matter how much or little they were liked. It was simply how things were meant to be, and this did include following a certain set of mannerisms.

"Perfect," Alaunvyll praised, "Your presence is always a refreshing one to see in my House. Rise. I have asked for you, alas, not to chat, but give you a mission. A very important one, in fact."

Upon complying with her Mistress's orders, it would have been revealed - should anyone not already know Lux, or who she was - that this hume was more unique than one would have immediately assumed. Not only was she specialized in a type of fighting that men of various races primarily resorted to using, but she was as tall as an average human. Lux stood at a full height of six feet and one to two inches tall, give or take a few digits.

Were it not for her ample bust or feminine appearance, it would otherwise be very easy to think Lux was an actual man. This was exactly why - particularly for above-ground raids - Lux was one of Alaunvyll's most deadliest soldiers. Humans and even those pathetic light-skinned elves would think little of her. By the time any suspicion ever started entering their minds ....

Well ... it was more often than not too late.

"What does Mistress wish for me to do?" Lux asked, lifting her head to make eye contact with the shorter but still very powerful Drow. Not physically, no; but in her own regards, Alaunvyll wasn't frail.

Not normally, anyway.

Now was different, but only because of the gods having their damned 'trials'.

Once hose end, though, you'll be strong again, Alaunvyll reminded herself. These troublesome days had been moments that helped her remember another reason Lux was so essential. Whereas any other slave may not have an absolute sense of devotion, Lux did.

And she had watched Alaunvyll's back countless times, killing anyone who even so much thought about killing her Mistress off. Nothing - gender, race, nothing - could save any poor bitch or bastard that was caught by Lux's wrath and, worse off, weapon.

"Though our House is still standing, we ... need to replace some of our lost members. I care not whether you find magical individuals or not. I want you to find --- "

Alaunvyll stopped, pausing her thoughts as she tilted her head slightly. A low set of "Hmm"s resounded before she corrected herself.

"Never mind. Actually, seek out only those skilled in the art of melee or ranged weaponry. If they focus on magic in any nature - or normally would do so - kill them. I need more people akin to you, yet different."

A few tinges of crimson lightly painted Lux's face, more fueled from pride than any other emotion. Praise was never handed out, especially by the Matron Mother herself. So hearing such words was - actually - a very big deal.

"Understood, Mistress. I will return when I find someone promising for your House."

"Excellent. Be vigilant but ... be thorough, all the same."

Taking a few moments to mutter under her breath, the protections on Lux's body briefly glowed, the light quickly disappearing mere seconds. While Lux did possess a good number of tattoos that she'd received prior to serving Alaunvyll, there were some that had been given to her. Those were what kept her from being easily killed by magical means.

Of course, it was another thing people tended to ignore, as her tribal and wild appearance made it look like she had merely had those naturally. Received from anyone but a Drow, priestess or otherwise.

Alaunvyll's crimson eyes continued to watch Lux; not out of lust, but ensuring she left the House uninterrupted. Even after seeing this occur, she made no immediate move to get up.

Instead, the Matron opted to stay seated, her mind shifting to a new thought. Her only daughter, Elari.

Although the younger Drow possessed non-Divine powers, she had still been teaching her child to properly worship Lolth. It was something Elari had been ... fighting for a good number of years.

To say it infuriated Alaunvyll would be an understatement.

Hopefully, progress has been made ...

Nodding to herself, Alaunvyll stood up, now knowing exactly where she wanted to go. Slowly, she sauntered towards her next destination; the combined dungeon and sacrificial chambers she'd made downstairs.

Meanwhile, Lux entered the streets of Rilauven. Her eyes darted quickly around, her ax seeming as hungry as her own gaze. She eagerly roamed the streets, proudly wearing the crest of the Venoch'Xuileb'Brou House on her back. It was one of the symbols that hinted she wasn't any mere servant, nor one to mess with.

Not lest one wanted a death wish, that was ...

There was a running street fight going on, several of the noble houses mixed up in a fight. Ktonos was watching seeing who might get the upper hand, when he realized that they were really only probing one another, no one willing to make a first move to start the battle in earnest. And that simply would not do.

He moved away from the patch of deeper shadows that he'd been in, and slipped towards a band of Drow. There was a short flurry of small hand crossbow bolts that clattered off the rocks. None of them had been likely to hit, but it encouraged them to keep their heads down. Ktonos drew out the long, sweeping blade from his back. He scuffed his step, intentionally letting his prey know he was there, giving them a chance to start to turn, to see the surprise, the sudden bloom of fear there. It was what he wanted more than anything right then.

Two heads came loose, and he had to drop the blade arc lower as the third tried to duck. He sheared through the skull of that one, still making a kill, but he missed the arterial spray from the severed heads. Still he managed to pull his blade back, and run it through the arcing gore, and pulled the blade back. He hesitated, wanting the taste, the focus it would bring, but knew he couldn't spare the time. The blood also made sure to dull out any potential shine on his sword. He waited for the clatter of bolts to fade, as no sign of any movement was making the other party need to investigate. The boulder that had sheltered them had very few points to climb, but Ktonos was picking them out. He strained his ears, until he faintly heard steps approaching. The average Drow likely woudl not have heard it, but most Drow did not live most of their lives ont he streets when missing a sound could cost you your life.

When they were close, he was on the move, vaulting up the boulder, and hopping over it. He caught sight of the surprise on the advancing party, picking out all four of them. Ktonos landed in front of one, using the drop to take him in half, shearing him from shoulder to hip, and crouching with the drop. As the others began to move, he moved in a wild circle, his blade taking all fo them across the torso, spinning them to the ground. He was grinning, pure combat the only thing besides blood that let him feel centered. Then there was a sound from farther down teh street, and he felt his face split into a grin. A lone figure, one advancing with confidence. Exactly what he loved, someone that felt they knew battle enough not to hide themselves!

Ktonos could have approached quietly, came on them with all the stealth and guile that the Drow favoured, made a slow and graceful kill. But that was not what he was about at this point, not covered in blood, the deaths of half a dozen Drow on his hands in less than a few minutes. No, this would be better. He grasped the severed heads from the first party quickly, and strode down teh street, head held high, before tossing the heads at the advancing woman. His eyes picked out differences about her. Too tall, taller than he was by a hand span, and he was tall for a Drow. And she carried an axe, a heavy one. he only smiled at her, onyl a tiny portion of his face exposed to open air, the rest a mask of someone elses blood.
"You're in my way." He said to her without a hint of fear.