Post/Author/DateTime	Post
niplan 03-11-07, 07:53 PM	Born into the city of the spider queen and a family that need not another threat to the matron’s throne, She was born without the dignity of a name, and bastardized by her blood. She had not received the training of the other females in her house, driven to the darkest caves unable to see the warmth of the time telling obelisk in the center of the underground metropolis. From the time of her birth she was deprived of rights given to all Drow, her literacy, innate spell casting all surprised, as she was not trained, as she should have been. Slowly day after day she begun to creep into the city and learned to hide, and time after time would sneak into the library of her house, and steal books, teaching her self to read. Her first language was that of the demons, and from there the darkness, and unto the language of the Drow. Her time passed, decade unto decade, matron one after another. While her sisters died, and her blood line tainted. She took her leave of the house and never to return lurking in the city she learned to seduce men who bowed to her, not knowing of her non status. Her desire for revenge and seeing the power of her sex, she would slay them time and time again, using them to satisfy her lust and desires. She became the mantis, the widow, a vengeful servant of Lolth. She named her self in the language of the surface, Beautiful death charm “Amamaidre” Her tongue swift and light she strode though the city, bastardized without a house emblem. Slowly her ebon skin and white delicate hair flowed over her shoulders after decades past. A day like none other to her, she strode into a bar and sat down in the slums into the slave quarter eyeing her victims, Women never came in these bars, and it made the males uncomfortable to say the least. Eyes diverted from her fiery wraith and scorn, Being female in a Drow city was good enough, but to believe you are touched by Lolth, and having an undying vengeance to kill your own kind and lustfully embrace their corpses bathing in their blood is more then enough tribute to the spider queen. Amamaidre sat down at the bar, until the bard begun to play, he sung songs old and forgotten as the ale flowed, the Drow became violent and cheerful. One made the mistake of speaking to her as if she were a surface wench. A Drow male not knowing his place in life spoke to her eye to eye. “Well, there it seems that we have a little lady with us tonight boys, maybe she would fancy the fangs of a dryder into her spiders cocoon!” With this the other men rapidly moved away and she took her position she grabbed him by the hair and lifted her thigh like a woman in lust, in front of the bar she placed him unto the bar table and begun to dance over him, letting his eyes gaze up her long flowing black ebon dress, and in the darkness you could see his eyes grow horrified with shock and vigor as he winced and squirmed, what he saw could only be described as a tribute to the cold steel that is Drow, to the cold menacing hate an domicile that is life, to the glory of their spider queen. She laid down and stuck her boot into his throat all the other men in the bar watching as at this point her tight fitting corset had come undone and her breasts were hanging freely, she drew a knife from her cleavage and drove it straight into his eye, stopping before murder, but lasting long enough to bring tears. The bar stood in shock but in awe as she slowly pulled out his eye she felt something in her throat, a smile grew to her lips as the blood coated her hands she plucked out the males eye with a grace and skill taught a thousand times to her, learned by practice, the feeling rose in her throat until she was giggling like a child. The bar stopped all motion as she took the blood running down his face and rubbed it across her body slowly enjoying it, as if she were making love with the blood, to the blood, it drove her to sheer ecstasy and as sure as it came it grew, and grew, she took the dagger and plunged it into his chest over and over eviscerating his body, rending his flesh, as she bent over and slowly lapped up the blood as if she were a panther, a kitten… and with that she dismounted the corpse, the bar standing in shock, she dressed her self and happily skipped out of the bar. That night she slept upon a bed of satin and silk, she slept on pillows of the softest material in all of the under dark, in a bed with posts of dragon bone, and a wizard undressing before her, more then a few drinks in him, and more then a cup of poison, she smiled though the few moments that would be his last, and into the darkness that was the eternal under dark they lay naked unto each other. The mage felt a warm sensation running down his spine, and then felt nothing as coldness of death crept over him, to utter a word he couldn’t. His mouth still from the poison of a thousand asps, and the fang of a dryder. She giggled into the night as she rode his stiff corpse to her utmost pleasure, as he was her first lover to lay inside of her. And in his current position of a death like decay the title of necromancy could be applied, as she raised the dead and rode a corpse into the night. The day followed and she stayed in the wizards abode, raiding files, books… wants trinkets anything she could find for food, wealth, travel… And she found a map though the underdark to the surface, She read the wizards notes, and the map led to a city of waterdeep, having heard of legends and tales of the surface world, she continued to read the wizards notes and information on the Drow in general on the surface world, and articles on the traitor drizzt do’urden…. And his foul lies and trespasses against Lolth. She took the gold she could from the wizard and kissed him on the lips before she left “Its not me its you baby.” With the information in hand on the surface and the worlds above she left from the city, armed with what she could find on short notice, and into the underdark she strode. Armed with thin blades and crossbows, spider silk armor and the tools of her trade she walked for days following the wizard’s map, well charted to avoid the pitfalls and traps of the druggar the sivilnebl and the mind flayers. She walked for days weeks, even months without seeing a soul, a creature, or a marking. The air got thicker, and started smelling things she never smelt on her 3rd month of the journey. The darkness grew dimmer and dimmer and she walked on and the smells became too much for her. She lay there for a day more then a week, adjusting before her head become hers once again. She walked forward and to the end of the map she saw that there was a cave, and she stepped out of the cave blinded by the light of the sun, something never seen before, the land around her, the grass and the smells all too much for her, and she ran back into the cave’s mouth to sit… to stir for a time being, she hid in the shadows and watched mortal go in…. The men would never come back, a hundred feet or less is all they walked before finding the cold steel slice of a Drow blade into their spine, and their possessions gone, She would dissect the corpses, and take note of their form and organs, these were humans, and she knew that they would be her best prey. Her eyes attuned but utterly violently abused by the bright lights of the mortal world followed the map to the city of waterdeep and there she stood before its great open gates, and did she walk in to a city of man, a city of elves, a city of every race imaginable that she had never seen once before. Mortal men looked at her and said things to her that would never be tolerated in her home, and neither were they on the surface. She slit throat after throat of drunken men, and orcs, throat after throat, spine and kidneys gutted, of half-ling, and gnome. She soon became accustomed to the surface, knowing its traps of men. She played her talents to work, dressing up as her races mortal enemy, she would dance upon a stage slowly removing her clothing for the money they would give her, and she would take note of their faces, and night after night, another would go missing from his family, wife, children… She took to her a book in a language of men, stolen from an herbalist she had slain, and she knew the usage of poison, she knew the abilities of Drow made weapons, but this was astounding to her, the abilities of poisons on the surface world. She learned the book multiple ways in multiple angles, by smell, touch, taste sight, she was the black widow, she would implement her self as the hand of Lolth in the town where she saw no Drow faithful to the cause of the spider queen. She was her hand, and she would create death, and confusion where she struck. This was her form of seduction, this was her life now, and this was her joy.
niplan 03-11-07, 07:54 PM	Into the great city, Amamaidre was cast, a young child nay of 20 years. More then an adult in mortal lands, less then an infant in the underdark. This would be her test of fortitude the test of courage, and her survival. It was her house that did this to her, they cast her out onto her own as she was born, first a slave, and then this. Creeping in darkness, lurking in the shadows that are as dark as infinite hell, and darker then that of the plane of the abyss. Given nothing to her, she was clothed in rags and stood outside her home for days, begging all passer by for food, water anything. And then he found her, she was a child of 21 years now, groveling in the gutter for scraps. Barley surviving. He was a man no more then Drow height, and weight. He carried with him a grin and smile bewitching of even the most sinister ideals in his head. He picked her up in masculine strong arms, and carried her down into his home. It was a lavish home, carpets and drapes, rugs, statutes. He had all manner of weapons on the walls, and all manner of art next to them. He took her into his bed chamber, Amamaidre clueless and she spoke, “Sir can I have some food please, I’m hungry, and can barley stand…” He heard the words coming out of her mouth but didn’t respond. He threw her violently onto his bed, and proceeded to defile her for days on end. Sometimes he would disappear for weeks at a time, leaving her with barley enough food and drink to survive in a dish beside the bed. She remained chained at all time. Her tears flow like rivers into dead stagnant water where they have laid many times already. He kept her for what seemed like an eternity her spirit broken and used. And one day he came to her, the first time he spoke to her in what was unknown to her how long, “I am sick of you, I need a new toy” From on the wall he removed a large club, and swiftly clubbed her over and over. Her tears would no longer run, her fate to end here today. And then blackness. She woke up, in the dryder pit, unable to move, her head burning, and sore. Her clothes and face stained in her ichor, as if some man, or some beast had its way with her after her death. She tried to move her hands and in the darkness she could see creatures running along the walls she could hear them clattering and watching her. She lay there dead to the darkness to the world. Stripped of her clothing looking into the darkness not a tear would fall, not one last bit of mercy for man shall be had, not one last horrific event shall be allowed to happen again. She prayed, prayed to what she wasn’t sure, prayed to who, she didn’t know of Lolth, of torn, or any god, nor of wee jass or eythnarul. She knew not of the gnomes and dwarves, the surface or of man. She did know, she felt the rage and hate of men. She felt the rage and hate for her family, for her matron. She felt the rage and hate for all. Her eyes opened and before her on the cold stone floor of the cave she saw it. There was a black widow, and it crawled up to her neck, she could feel its fangs sink deep into her pale death like flesh. She cried in pain, but no tears. Her hands moved freely, her muscles sore but not dead, the spiders poison flowing in her veins did not hurt, but made her stronger, she was able to climb as if she were the widow, up the wall, as if spider climb was inate to her. Past the edge of the canyon, and though the kobold slaves, and goblin slaves, still crawling until she fell. She fell on the temple steps, the temple of Lolth. All went dark, When she awoken she was laid on a bed of spiders silk. Her surroundings of stone, and darkness, cut stone and cold floor. She look up and see on the roof, an image of a woman clad in dress, riding a spider. There was food and drink with her. She devoured her feast and fell to bed. This went for days, in darkness and in nothingness Her dreams haunted, her sorrows lived time and time again. She came to, after a three week period she came to and in the church she found female and female alone. Her bruises still pure and new. She spoke to the matron in control of the church and stated her plight her plea and her hope. It was they, the matron the mistresses that taught her the ways of Lolth her birth gifts and rights. And here she stayed till she became the age of sixty. And she left early one morning, before the pillar had been charged to tell time, before the hand maidens awoke. And into the city she went. She crept with stealth and guile hiding from the gaze of men and woman alike. She hid and learned watched and stalked. She knew the movements of the Drow, she knew their thoughts, there dreams and their hopes. And then she remembered, She stopped and stared into the darkness, into a house that was all to familiar, she took to the steps and remembered she took to the window and spied. There he was, her foe, her rapist, her slaver and here he was another tied, another chained. How many times she thought… how many women. Then she took into the house, silent and stealth, she plucked from the wall two swords of elven make, of Drow make… they would be hers and he would be hers. She crept into the room in the middle of the screams and pleas. She drove the sword into his spine and jumped on his back, like a cat in revenge, a cat in heat, she took him, the sword into his spine and he rolled off the bed, she sat upon his chest and grinned. She remembered all to well. She took the chain off the woman, and chained this man to his bed, she took the club he had beaten her with off the wall, and placed it somewhere it doesn’t belong. She made him feel, and cry for what he did to her, and that wasn’t all. She found a wand on his bed, and remembered it was the wand he cured with… to inflict pain with longer, and that she did. She healed him.… and took her dagger to him. She carved into his chest, a symbol of the spider queen. She removed his ear slowly. She took to his face and made him bite the blade, she then proceeded to jump on it, cutting deeper into his mouth and the tears of crimson rolled from his eyes, as she looked at him she said to him. “Stop crying male, or I shall make it so you will never cry again.” She hit him with the healing wand, and soon his flesh mended. His sobbing would not digress, and she had him, face to face, his breath horrible foul wretching of goblin ****. His eyes as black as hell, and running with tears of water. Bending into his face she placed her dagger, and slowly removed the eye from its socket and threw it out the window, and she spoke to him in a whisper while his screams remained, “Hush child, or I shall remove the other.” And his sobs stopped quietly. She smiled to her self, and traced the blade down his leg to his ankle. Placing the blade to his heel, and into his flesh, Amamaidre cut his tendon, only in the left, and not in the right. She spoke to him loudly “Tell me child, if you wish to be able to walk, beg for it… beg now” And he uttered noises but no words came out. “Oh, I guess you don’t want to walk.” And with that she cut the last tendon into his leg. And stopped and laughed evil and heartlessly, “Oh that’s right I cut out you’re tongue I forgot about that!” And with those words she stole what she wanted from him and left him, she untied him and walked away. Her revenge so sweet, so delcitble and so perfect. She thought to her self, and in praise of Lolth, in her name, she has punished this male.
niplan 03-11-07, 07:54 PM	It was a slow day as Amamaidre sat quietly stalking her pray, it was 2 hours past the end of the tribute to Lolth, and the fools drunken on wine, and spider drinks, the mind poison flowed like honey, the conscience of the Drow falling, and giving into lustful acts. Female chaining male to their sides, and making them worship them as they sat at the tables. The women dining on meals of great stature, Amamaidre sat outside waiting, she saw the lizard riders of the great house go by, but new her self safe, as days before she pocketed a drink from a foolish apothecary, whom she just as surely would have had in her, she had slain in a pool of blood, removed his trinkets, pawned them to the nearest merchant and kept what she thought she would need. Undetectable to magic, and invisible to sight of heat, and darkness she sat. Waiting, watching, thoughts running though her mind, of what they were thinking, these were her blood, who hath thrown her into nothingness into slavery, alas they knew not she was even departed, nor did they care. To turn around she would have seen more of the lizard riders growing anxious for some unseen, uneasiness settled the compound this night, all on edge, but their wisdom was correct however they did not know why. Below their feet and above their heads would they find her, the reason. House passed and she watched though open windows, she knew the time had come, as she crept to through the darkness. She hadn’t worry about the wizards that were kept at the keep, she knew full well that they were weak, males that had little to no power, the dress they wore, clad in spiders silk was nothing but a show. Soon the robes of the wizards would be stained in ichor, in blood. Amamaidre crept though the compound as silently as she could her footprints not leaving a trace behind, as she crept behind the guard, removing her thinblade she snuck behind him, she whispered into his ear, a phrase that would echo from this day until her death, into the ears of her victims, her slaves, her lovers, and companions. There is no real translation for the idium she gave, but it would be comparable to “Into the spiders arms you go this night.” The guards face went pale with dread and she whispered in her Drow tongue “tell me male, where, where are they this night, you’re queen, tell me and I shall let her live… tell me not and I shall slay the house.” And the male spoke back to her in hushed tones “In the house they are, my mistress is the one in red.” And with that she gave him a crimson kiss, her lips posed and poisoned, the instant her full delectable lips touched his, he fell to the ground, convulsing, and crying. She put her foot unto his chest and walked over him. More of an after thought, before she left him, and doubled back she robed his cold lifeless shell. Taking his gold, and taking the house ring. She drug his corpse into the shadows, where no man, no woman no moral shall ever allow it to see the light of day again. She slipped back into the shadows, and though the house doors she came. Two guards to the left, and two to the right, four in total. She stood for a moment, as if she knew they could see her, and she grinned. If she had not her magic effects, she would have been stopped. She threw a rock into the darkness, and the guard teams split. Two from the left went to the sound, and so did Amamaidre. She crypt like a shadow behind them and into his ear did she whisper a suggestion, the words rolled off her tongue, and into his receptive ears, she tapped into the magic stream and enchanted her new manservant, to kill his partner. With a glare he looked, and he saw the other male, and drew his sword of the finest Drow craftsmanship in the darkness the blackness stood out, outlined like the reapers scythe in the darkness, he ascended from below into the neck of his once friend, once partner, and still brother. The kill was silent, as Drow skin is soft and supple, and there weapons dance on a razors edge of fate. The corpse lay there, for the guards to find, while she slowly reached into the armor of her new toy, and took into her hand that which made him a man, and removed it with a daggers thwick, to his knees he fell not uttering a sound, as it was his mistresses command. And she giggled to her self with utmost glee. Amamaidre took with her the symbol of manhood, and threw it at the two remaining guards, the trickle of the Drow's ichor blood flew though the air leaving a trail in the rock, and it stuck onto the guardsmen’s armor spikes. They wretched in horror and ran out unto the darkness. She was ready, and with a giggling sound that would make the Cheshire cat come to chagrin she removed them from the strands of fate, and more importantly from in front of the door. This time however the combat, the steel on steel of the weapon into the armor made the noise that would sound an alarm. Hearing the sound she sunk into the darkness, leaving the guards to fight that which was a phantom. She sunk deeper and deeper into the rocks. All of the guardsmen came to the front door, and a wizard begun casting spells, but she was gone… She had removed a green potion from her pack, and from the potion she pulled out an arachnid’s leg. Into her mouth she placed it and devoured it whole. A moment passed and she begun to climb the wall outside of the compound as if she too were the dryder, the spider that they so worshiped. Scaling the wall unmolested she landed upon the highest story of her once home, she was five floors above where she had slain the males, and now she could begin her revenge upon the house. And she spoke the words in a sheer whisper of fate, “A pox unto this house, and I shall be that pox” She went from room to room, peeking though the keyholes and silently unlocking locks, unlatching latches and in each room she found one thing progressively worse, acts of lust, debauchery and devotion to some sick god that was not the spider queen. Out raged and apauled at the heresy her name committed against the spider queen, she snuck into the darkness, dagger and sword in hand, she would slay them all that night, one after the other drinking their blood and calling cries in her silenced head to the spider queen that made her so great, that made her a Drow. She came upon one final door, a door inlaid with gold, on the 1st floor, a door that spoke thousands of stories on its face alone. She knew this room, she knew it was the temple, she dare tread here last, as now she knew her family was not so pure and not so innocent and more revolting then any surface elf could ever be. It was her job to pure her name, her job and hers alone. She had yet to find her mother but now she would, she opened the door and it slid on its frame, thick and heavy the door was truly solid gold. And in the room she saw a ritual being preformed that in its self would damn them all. A sister of hers by blood but not fame, engaging it lustful acts with a dryder creature. She was mating with the damned and cursed, as the matron mothers cheered on this sick vile act her screams and tears could not be silenced, even in the aura of a silence spell could you still hear here mournful cries, and it was Amamaidre who ended her suffering. Not out of pity, not out of remorse, but maybe a feeling obligation. She took out her crossbow and aimed, with a well placed shot to the head, her sister fell lifeless and breathless. However the dryder did not stop, even in death. The room erupted in commotion, as globes of darkness fell one unto the other screams of traitor and intruder had been alarmed, but even in the loudest screams for help, no guard would come. And no guard from another place would be sent, the enemies of her house prayed for this day, prayed for when their house would fall. Her skin tingled, as she felt her actions and self being watched by wizards and priestesses of other houses, cheering her on in thought, and when she walked to the alter the dryder had vanished, and there her mother stood. Her mother a woman of stature and age, thousands of years old she was, and in her hand she held the weapon not of the snake headed spider queen, but a mace with a skull, a weapon of no god, but of a daemon. As she charged her mother there was a rumbling below the temple. The earth shook and split, and out of the darkness, there it stood. At least fifteen feet tall, leathery wings, standing like a man but larger horns from its head, and a sword of fire in its arms. It was the Baylor. Knowing she was far outmatched but not believing in it she went to a knee, and in the darkness she waited for the demon to come, it laughed with a dark rumbling sound that caused the temple walls themselves to shake. In the language of her tongue she prayed, and her prayers did not go unheard, Lolth angry at the matron for betraying her faith, and joyous of the new bodies the spider queen received. Lolth took pity on the female, and came from the pits, to her, and stood before her as the baylor swung, stopping the attack mid strike. The demons eyes could see fear this day, and knew its fate, it bowed before the spider queen, not resisting what will become of it, she erased the demon, she erased its name, its existence, its history, never to be summoned again. And when Amamaidre looked up she saw her, the most beautiful woman to exist, dark ebon skin, beautiful features, and eyes with timelessness, her finger nails long and black, wearing a dress of either, a ball gown, that would make even the most perfect Drow made, look like trash for the humans. She bowed before her queen, as the matrons in the room, their face paled, and even in the darkness and the ebon skin you could see their fear. She picked them up one by one, grabbing unto the neck, as if they were ***** puppies, she threw them into the fires of their temple, to be burned alive like the heretic they are. The goddess lit the fires, and then disappeared. The fires themselves grew black with malice and hate, they were not fires of men, not fires of demon, but fires of the pain and suffering, fires of the gods. She looked unto the where the goddess had stood, and there she saw tiny spiders crawling about the ground. She stood and picked up a spider, and placed it unto her armor, and left her once mighty house, that she single handedly with the blessings of a cruel corrupt malice goddess destroyed in under one night. Left to creep the streets again, she looked back and imagined as if she would take up the chair of matron. But the words echoed though her head, in something indiscernible to her, that she was to not take the chair of matron, that something better was in store for her. Walking to her home, a tiny room above a bar in the slave quarters, her pockets busting with gold, and jewels. “Tomorrow, tomorrow will be payday.”
niplan 03-11-07, 07:55 PM	Amamaidre stood before the dank tavern of waterdeep, unlike the bars of the underdark she knew she couldn’t openly take what she wanted here. Here it would take her skills, and abilities to get what she wanted. She had been in water deep for two ten days, give or take, and had learned very quickly to hide she was a Drow. She walks around in the form some days of a human, and some days that of an elf. Today she was disguised as a human. She spoke common quickly and learned it well. She spoke with an accent of elegance, and cunning, utter wit, and wherever she decided to go men, and few women of all races stared at her. She was beyond stunningly gorgeous, and could talk anything she wanted into anyone. She stood at the door that was already opened to the bar, inside was dark, not her darkness, but mortals darkness. In she strode and the pungent smell or flowers permitted her nose. Obviously the scent was to cover the stench of the vomit and un-clenliness. There was a man on stage, of a race she had never seen, and in the tables sat gnome, and dwarf alike. The bar was ran by a stout looking woman, who had a rather large beard. Amamaidre whispered to her self thoughts of murder and greed. She wanted nothing more then to rend the throat out of all of them. But no, she was here to meet someone today… She had been lurking the allies and gutters late at night, killing and taking what she wanted, late this morning she had encountered a mortal, who had attempted to rape her. She quickly ended that thought, when she drove her knife straight into his throat into an aura of magic darkness. Upon his corpse she found a note, and a few gems. The note read in the language of under common. The rest of the note she couldn’t understand, it simply had pictures of bunnies, and cows, random letters and symbols. She sat at the table and followed the instructions she could in under common, what did she have to loose really? Sitting at the table she thrust her legs onto the table and leaned back in her chair, she could feel the eyes of the bar upon her. Feeling a sense of lawlessness she took a quick moment and surveyed the area, she locked eyes with a mortal man, clean shaven long haired and decked with rings and gems. Obviously either a fop or something important she thought to her self, and she ushered a silent suggestion to him, and with that he approached her and sat down on the floor at her feet. she slowly bent over to him and kissed him slowly and playfully running her hands down his shirt, as his body fell limp and lifeless mid kiss. The man fell into a pile on the floor, and with that she raided his gold, and jewelry. She kicked his body, under the table cracking his ribs into the table leg, as he let out a painful moan, obviously not dead but paralyzed. It took more then half an hour for the notes sender to arrive, it was a woman, lucious and legged, she too drew the stare of the bar, as she blew a kiss to a drunken gnome on the way in, Some sort of human, or half human. Amamaidre didn’t care. “So, you’re the new one?” The woman spoke to her, her hair red and flowing past the center of her back, tight fitting leather, adorned with studs, she removed her gauntlet and glove, slender fingers and sharp black finger nails upon her hands. She held out her hand, upon her finger she wore a slender ring of a black spider, with eyes of rubies. She removed another glove from her bag and placed it upon her hand, it was a claw glove, some sort of multiple finger armor, shaped like a dragons claw with razors edges on each finger. Amamaidre returned the phrase in under common “you’re courier seems to have perished…” And the woman laughed “Well then, it seems the best agent for the job will received it after all…” they both glanced around the bar and noticed they were both being stared at. It was then that the red haired woman noticed that Amamaidre had her feet resting on the body of a man. The woman placed her boots on his head and they continued the conversation. “I am Cassandra” “and I am Amamaidre” did she return the phrase. “Tell me Cassandra, What agent am I now?” “you are that of the shadow hand guild.” “I hardly speak you’re language, tell me what this letter means” “Look, this is an entry level mission, I’m sure someone with you’re skin can easily breeze though it” Amamaidre glared, and continued to rub her feet on the body, “tell me, what does you’re guild do?” “We are the shadow hand guild… we are, the greatest thieves in water deep.” Cassandra handed Amamaidre a note, written in under common, with directions and pictures of her target. She nodded and with that and they left the bar. Amamaidre walked to her inn room, and studied her instructions with a map of the city. Her target, was a merchant. And that’s all she was given, the location of his shop and his picture. She applied her deaths kiss poison, and sulked down the stairs down to the first floor, and ran her hand along the desk, the inn keeper was gone for the moment, and when she got back, so would her coins. Amamaidre stood in the street and headed to the merchant district. She passed the slums, and her murder count rose twelve fold by the time she left. It took her a little less then two hours to walk the distance, to the market district. She followed the instructions exactly and wound up on selduth street. The store was hidden between two larger buildings on each side and pushed back, it was a silk shop and well kept, Amamaidre stepped inside though the old door, and saw behind the counter the face of an old woman, she was drinking a cup of something, and placed her drink down on her counter and began to speak in a thick accent. “hello to you! How can I help you?” Amamaidre stood their, she slowly spoke, “I need your finest silk..” “oh that will be this” the woman said pointing to something in the window, “no no I want something else, do you have anything else I don’t like anything in this room” The little old woman stop and thought “well, I have something but I have to know you’re serious first” She reached into her purse and held it open showing enough coins to buy everything in her shop. The woman’s eyes lit up with joy. “wait right here!!” she said excitedly and she went into her store room leaving her alone in the shop, Amamaidre reached over the counter and took a sack of coins behind the counter, and placed a dram of poison. Her beloved knock out poison…. The woman came back, and placed on the counter thirty pounds of dragon scale and took a drink of her tea. “Its hot out today and this isn’t light! This is dragon, said to come from a black dragon.” “Then why is it red?” “what? Well, black dragons are red of course” And the woman took another sip of tea, and hit the floor, passed out. Amamaidre walked over to her, and removed her dagger, and slit the woman’s throat in her sleep, and left the store. As she walked out, dagger still out a man was coming in, just as old as the woman, and soon he too found a dagger in his ribs as she passed him he fell to the cold stone, as dead as he soon will be. She walked back to the inn, about half way though her walk she found a horse in a stable casting a spell of invisibility on her self, she mounted the horse and promptly rode off to her inn. The ride took less then thirty minutes at full trot. When she arrived at the inn she made her way to the bar. Cassandra was sitting legs crossed at the same table. Dusk had set outside, and her victim had been moved and is no longer under the table. She sat down at the table, and they began to speak. Cassandra looked to her, “How did it go?” Amamaidre spoke in under common “The old woman is dead.” “That was quick, how did you do it?” “Death’s kiss…” “sounds fun” Amamaidre looked at her in the eyes, “tell me what you are now. Tell me what this is” “We are the thieves guild, assassins, thieves, murderers and brigands. You are now one of us, come with me and I will show you the way.” They walked for less then five minutes, before they reached an abandoned building. Cassandra knocked on the door and then silence, she uttered a phrase, or two about how the coffee’s mother had sex with foul. And the door opened. The room was dark and they passed though a solid wall, and two locked doors opened with a key before they ascended into the basement. Down a long hallway and to the left. The hallway opened into a large room, adorned with rugs and wares of all kinds. There was a half-orc behind the counter, who spoke with more grace then any she had met so far, he introduced himself. “I am grull knack skull” he spoke to her in common And she dared to introduce her self, “And I good sir am Lolth” Their faces went sullen and gloom ridden before she burst out laughing; “Amamaidre, seductress and lust goddess.. seducer and widow, poisoned lips, and lucious hips. Slayer of men, and taker of gems” The orc stared at her and Cassandra spoke up, “This is our shop, and he is our bouncer and merchant. Anything you want, poisons tools, weapons, a fence? He can move anywhere, by force.. grace.. it doesn’t matter. No matter how marked, and noticeable he can move it.” “delicious” “don’t bother stealing from the hall by the way, you wont get away with it.” Amamaidre thought to her self for a moment, and smiled, Cassandra turned and down the hall they went, this time to the right, and up a set of stairs to a steel bolted door. “this is the guild masters room.” Cassandra opened the door with a key, and walked up to a large chair, almost like a throne, adorned with black velvet and red trim, she sat down, and introduced her self. “I am Liaalivilla” Amamaidre though to her self and made the translation Mistress shadow luck…. Amamaidre looked close at Cassandra, and in the blink of an eye her skin was as ebon as any Drow and hair as white as snow. “Small world hrmm?” “You have sanctuary here, and a room at the lower section in the barracks, but don’t worry… it’s a private room, and your own storage… We don’t steal from one another in this building, nothing will be stolen” and she emphasized the words in this building. “The others are here, we took the secret entrance, feel free to use it, and we are the only ones of our kind in the guild, and I intend to keep it as no one knows our true origins.” With that they bowed before one another and Amamaidre left the room, walking down the hallway, though invisible wall after invisible wall, and found the common halls there was members of every race there. She found her room, and made her self at home… it was a room of utmost luxury. And she quickly before the moon rose changed her resting-place.
niplan 03-11-07, 07:56 PM	Amamaidre sat in a chair in the main guild hall watching those that pass, some she never laid eyes on before today, and some she has seen frequently. There was the typical hustle of the guild, at least the hustle that can be expected from a thieves guild. There were several merchants out here, but all of them looking rather lack luster in wares. And more certainly in prices, as the constant arguing over prices. The arguments however did not last long, until one pulled a weapon on the other. And the wielder was soon dislodged from his position on the floor, and the hall. There was a particular incident this day, where a human argued with one of the gnome merchants. Apparently the human had stolen wares directly from the merchant he was attempting to sell them back to. And this was later proven true, as the wares had arcane marks on them, that the merchant removes when they are sold. It took a mere tick of time, for it all to happen, however it was very amusing. The human argued with the merchant about the ownership of the items, and just as soon as the voices were raised the daggers were pulled. Upon the humans attempt at leaping into the merchant he was hit with a wand of lighting bolt, and suddenly fell to the floor mid air. His cold lifeless body lay there as the merchant kicked it repeaditly and raided the corpse for items. Soon the scourges and lowlifes alike came to plunder the body fighting amongst themselves. When all was said and done the body was completely naked and being drug out to the streets by a large ogre carrying a militia on his back, and hips. The days went on and on like this, Slowly drudging away. The boredom Amamaidre felt could tear worlds asunder and shake the foundation of an idle mages flights of fancy. It was on one of these days, say five or six years after she arrived in waterdeep, and had joined the guild when there was a promising note upon her door when she awoke from her rest. She would sit in her room and dance with air. Tumble and flip, writhe with the passions of an imaginary lover, and perform masturbatory acts with her weapons, the cold steel was more then enough to satisfy the lust she desired. Someday she was used to notes, Missions, assassinations thieving and what not. Today this note was different written in a language she used, but not very often. The language of the abyss. The note its self written in ink seemed to radiate pure evil that the demons who spoke the tongue would, just as the tongue its self became pure evil incarnate. The note read; “We shall teach you poison craft that you’re dreams can’t fathom. We will teach you stealth and guile that no man can match, no mortal, no woman. We are the bloody hand. A guild of assassins.” Amamaidre thought to her self that this was peculiar as that she had already preformed acts of this nature and caliber for her current guild, and that to betray them in her sense of disturbed loyalty could not be good. But maybe she could play two hands in this game. She took the note with her at all times. Eventually the note drove her to new levels of extreme as if it gave her power of some kind, all be it psychosomatic it was still there. When alone she would take the note and rub it against her ebon flesh to feel the touch of evil, the touch of demon. She was encountered by the guild leader of the assassins on a moonless night in her hallway. It was a tall man cloaked in shadow, but he not knowing her true heritage could see him just as fine as in the day, and were able to make out every inch of his body every shape every form, and every weapon. She stood studying him before he made a move, it was the half orc that ran the private fence in the thieves guild. She thought to her self that this would be easier to join then she had imagined. The orc spoke to her in a sign language that had no been used to her in centuries. The sign of the Drow. She took to her nimble fingers with lithe and grace, and soon their conversation was over as quickly as it began in a few gestures. He informed her of their purpose, of their desire. The orc had told her that the thieves guild has been lacking in luster, lacking in promise, and taking up too much space. That the desire to remove the thorn and replace it with a slave was too strong now and they must be removed. The assainations would begin tomorrow, but no merchant would be slain. He threw to her a ball of paper, and vanished. She opened the paper and read it to her self, the words flowed silently past her crimson poisoned lips, ready to administer the kiss of death once again, one dose of lust, is all it takes to kill. It was a note of names, and members of the guild she was to assassinate. The names familiar some, and unknown others. All easy marks for her, She knew how she could kill them all with one style one grace and one delicate gesture. Before the sun could rise and set again they would all be dead. Amamaidre took her self to the entertainment room, and began to perform acts of depravity and lust by her weapons, with her self and with a strong iron pole in the center of the room, she had them all entranced, hypnotized. Her clothing falling off and her swords becoming blissful lovers. The cheers of the room went up and loud cries and screams of joy. The she began to work, cretin parts of her body covered in poison, invisible to those who watched, she sulked and crept from table to table in lustful poses picking up coins and playing their sick game. She loathed them all, the typical males she thought to her self, and she would stick her fingers in their drinks and feed them their wine, and they would fall over into convulsions. Other men cheering and laughing as if they couldn’t handle a woman such as this. Soon she grew tired of prancing like a cat, like a vulnerable woman, and she took to the doors she took to darkness and cast that of her home lands spells. The darkness ascended into the room, and she could see but they could not. The next few seconds were as if a blade dervish were unleashed into the room, a torrent of blood, a maelstrom of pain and screams, tendons removed, and entrails eviscerated. She was mad with lust. The door out barred from the other side, the orc and other assassins sat peeking in, they took could see with the grace of potions. The walls would be painted in blood this day. And when the spell ended so did her privacy, the lights came back without warning and they found her laying on the floor giggling and laughing maniacally sadistically in the blood, she had took the corpses and piled them up, now she sat on a throne of the bodies of men. The assassins said nothing and pretended to see nothing. The leader of the thieves guild. Liaalivilla stood, horrified and what she saw, she rushed though the doors disguised dropped and in the open, swords drawn and clad in nothing but her clothing that is used to rest her head. The two Drow stood before each other Amamaidre fully nude, clothed in the blood of the fallen, and Liaalivilla Clothed in nothing but spiders silk. The two clashed blades Amamaidre uttered a word and begun to move as if she were a displacer beast. And another before she vanished from normal sight. Liaalivilla had invoked a pendatn around her neck and it had begun to glow with a bright red shine. She was able to follow Amamaidre moves with the attentiveness of a cat stalking its pray. The two woman clashed sword upon sword Amamaidre throwing Liaalivilla off guard constantly with feints and tumbles, her body sore and broken, outclassed and outmatched she held up the sign to yelled, the sign for surrender. With that Amamaidre dropped her blade, and took to her a temporary lover, licking the blood off of the flesh of the fallen house master. She gave to her a kiss, most passionate ass if the gods themselves were in love, a tainted kiss. She fell to her knees in paralysis. Amamaidre now drug the once powerful woman to her room and locked the door. None of the witnesses that night could say what happened to the guild leader. Or rather none could be found. But it is said that no scream, no cry no sound was ever uttered from the room other then the maniacal giggling of the spider queen her self. The acts of lust and depravity poison and blood could shake the foundation of a pure soul and render is asunder never whole again.
SwarthmoreDB 03-11-07, 09:01 PM	Wow. Just wow. The story was pretty good, although you need to work a bit on your spelling and grammar, since you felt like a different writer from the second paragraph downward. Otherwise, it is a pretty good background story for your character. What would her potential build be? I'm thinking probably Rogue/Assassin/Whirling Dervish, but I wanna know what you did...
niplan 03-11-07, 09:16 PM	she was a gestalted beguiler rogue, who died in 3 hours of her first play thanks to an over powered fireball happy sorcerer.