Arch Mage Del'mar's Journal and accountings

[Drizzlin]

*A dark black book slightly resembling a spell book lays before you. There are no magical runes or traps apparent. The cover of the book seems to be made of flesh, perhaps elven. Spiders are woven throughout the entire binding of the book. Upon opening the book you catch the strong odor of formaldahide and death. You realize the cover is indeed made up of flesh. The inner bindings of the book resemble a familaur constellation, one of a spider*

*A prelude starts the book*


This is long over due. I have notes here and there I kept since my arriving to the surface, but I have lacked the time to turn them into one complete installment. Please if you find my journal keep in mind it is a work in progress. If you are prying it from my dead fingers, and I lack the control of those fingers, then the work was never completed and I leave that to you. If you stole this book and I am still a live, at least read it before I find you so that we may discuss it over your last few dying breaths. And I will find you.

Here are the accounts of my time on the surface. For record and my own amusement...  



I am Daralith Del'Mar. Son of High Priest Glarian Del'Mar and Arch Mage Laela Del'Mar. I once held the rank of Senior Apprentice in the Tower of Sorcere. My house was not noble, but we stood at the gates of nobility before my leaving. My life previous to the surface is well accounted for in the tombs of my home. It is my life on the surface I keep track of now...

[Drizzlin]

I have become attached to this strange surface world, even though I long to return home. I often wonder if I were tricked into leaving my home by my brother, Meklithane. I ponder constantly on whether my house was destoryed as my informants warned me, or whether my brother simply lacked the ambition to remove me by his own hand. When I think on this I believe my bother lacked the brains to trick me and I know I could always measure his ambition with my right ring finger.

What Meklithane did posses however was the knowledge of me and how I would let my family burn in a second to save my own skin. So no, even if House Del'mar is still striving, my brother did not trick me. I tricked myself.

My first day on the surface was indeed one of my most painful. Books have spoken of the sun but none prepared me for the pain. The pain was excruciating. Without my sight I felt puny and defenseless. I remember trying to shield my eyes from the horrible blinding death, which at the time I could only imagine it to be the cursed Sun.

I remember hearing laughter in the back of my mind in those first few moments. At first I wasn't sure if the laughter was coming from the Drow, who by nature had double crossed me, or if I were laughing at myself for being so stupid to trust a Drow. Never trust a Drow. Rule number one. This lead me to ponder if I had actually seduced that female, or if she had played me a fool. Either way, I could not see a thing and knew I had to get out of the wretched sun before it burned my eyes from their very sockets. Then I heard a another voice booming in my head drowning out the laughter. The voice was crude and heavily accented. I was barely able mark where it was comin from much less understand it with the pain shooting through from my eyes into the back of my sull. I eventually recognized the language spoken to be one of the lesser surface races a language known as common.

"Don't see many of your kind around here little one. Friend or foe? You only get one answer", came the crude voice from a distance of about five feet above me.

Taking note of my predicament, but unable to not state the obvious, "In my state, even if I were a foe, I'd hardly be an adequate one. Wouldn't you say... oh how did you put it so eloquently... big one?"

"That didn't answer my question", came the voice again. I was beyond frustrated and beginning to think the portal had completely disoriented my sense of up and down. I was certain that I sensed the creature speaking standing directly infront of me, yet his voice seemed to come from above, as if the creature were about 10 feet tall.

Trying my best to see through the blazing light so that I might make out who I was speaking too and at the same time having trouble using a word for the very first time in my life, a word I am still not sure I understand the true meaning of, I replied, "Friend".

"Well good enough for now, we'll have to see about that, but good enough. Now you seem to be having a difficult time seeing and I'm guessing you just arrived seeing how you weren't standing there a few seconds ago. Why don't you come over here where there is a bit of shade, oh and let me be the first to welcome you too these parts of Mistone. I am Mothkar, Mothkar the Cunning in some parts..."

I remember being in such a fit of rage that I actually frothed from the mouth. Barely able to control my anger I stumbled for the words, WWhere do you say?"

"Mistone, welcome to Mistone is what I said..." came that voice gain.


My first moments on the surface were painful and extremely mind numbing. I found myself close to a human town named Hlint. I quickly made some allies with the lesser races and attempted to make sense of what had happened to me. The wench I had bed told me that my family was under attack. I took her advice and learned from my brother Meklithane that our house was indeed under attack. Meklithane said he was going to make an alliance with a small guild of houseless males and I never saw him again. I chose to call in every favor I had and flee to another city. The city was meant to be one in the underdark, but instead the portal I stepped into took me to surface. If I ever find the drow who betrayed me, I will thank him as I skin him and feed him to my familiar.

[Drizzlin]

In my first week here in Hlint I made an alliance in a half giant named Mothkar and a goblin named Skatch. You may wonder why I would ally with such pathetic lesser races? The answer is simple, they are far more superior to the pathetic Drow I have run into thus far on the surface. These Drow forget where they came from and who they are. They are pathetic and I hold them in same regards as I hold an elf. May the Prince of Hate lay vengence upon them like no other.

[Drizzlin]

I think the best way to fit into the surface will be as a merchant. It seems drow walk the surface here, but they are hardly drow. They a pathetic tanned skinned elves at best. I am taking up my old hobby of enchanting and crafting fine jewlery so that I can barter my wares and earn the trust of these locals. All of which are merely a front to gather information I need and to earn the trust of fools willing to lay their lives on the line for a nice smile and a discount on a magic ring.

I will start my trading outside and around Hlint. I am currently in search of allies, ones whom are reliable enough to stand next to me in battle. There are few among the surface who follow Baraeon Da'Cuz thus I have saught followers of Corath and Pyrtechon.

[Drizzlin]

My notes are ruined! I was attacked last eve by band of spell casting vampires. One of which was kind enough to center a fireball on my face! Oh well, I shall commit the rest of my notes from memory into one entry.


I remained in and around Hlint in my early months. As a matter of fact I avoided going far from Hlint until recently. I found myself fascinated with the undead and studying them. With Hlint having what they called "problems" in the crypts I was able to marvel in my easy access of specimens to study.

I made a name for myself in the Hlint bartering my goods and occasionally venturing off to Lelion, Port Hope, and Hampshire to trade in the local markets. Mothkar was a devout, I say was because I have not seen him in some time, follower of Pyrtechon. I learned a good bit from him and rather respect the beliefs and goals of Pyrtechon. However misguided those beliefs may be, I have to admit the means to the end has good merit. If anything it would be a most entertaining spectacal to see. Otherwise Pyrtechon seems to lack patience.

I believe the last time I saw Mothkar was when the town of Hlint turned on me... I was almost lynched in town square of a matter I had nothing to do with. Sure I didn't try to stop the evil necromancer from raising the dead and attacking the town...sure I was even interested in his work and inquired into it. I however did not do the things I was accused of. Either way it was made clear I should take a small vacation. So I did just that. I went back underground but I can not seem to find a way that will take me to the routes I need to return home. I eventually gave up for now and returned.

People have forgotten how they tried to burn me, but I did not. I think perhaps vengeance on Hlint shall be one of my first long term goals upon returning. I have not figured out my plan of attack, but I am thinking perhaps I can succeed where the necromancer failed. Which brings me to my new found companions if you will and current studies.


Outside of Hlint I met a female cleric of Corath. She goes by the name Myrena. She has promise and ambition in her dark heart. Her ways are sinister, deceitful, pompous, and almost Drow like. Yes, I like this one. I shall make good use of her. Oh and did I mention she seems to detest elves almost as much as me? Yes she is a keeper. More importantly she has introduced me to a very powerful High Priestess of Croath. This is one human I would dare not cross unless I were sure I could finish the job and gain more than I would stand too lose. Even if I were to kill her I feel she is favored enough by Corath that her soul would rise up immediantly to seek revenge. No I will stay clear of this one for now and do my best to be on her useful side. Besides she amuses me so. The High Priestess is such a piece of work. She beats those below her with a whip and she has shared some wealth with me. I have decided she is better an ally than enemy. Were she a Drow she would be worthy to sit at my dinner table, such a shame she was born a lesser race. Oh well, we can't all be perfect.


I have diligently dedicated my spare time to the study of Necromancy. Which is another reason I shall remain in company with the Corath followers. The High Priestess has a mage whom she commands. A Necromancer I believe to be of some power. I am not sure of the extent of this Necromancer's knowledge of the Arcane, but I have agreed to tutor under her. We struck this deal just last eve.

If this necromancer has fooled me and is nothing more than an illusionist, I will take pleasure in burning her black heart from her chest and feeding it to my Familiar. That is neither here nor there because she does amuse me I might add. This necromancer also is rather skilled in the art of scribing and I could learn a thing or two from her.

[Drizzlin]

It has been some time since I have written in my journal. I am currently lost in some forsaken desert, so I have time to write. I wait for the blasted sun to sink into the horizen so that I can travel by night. The surface seems so vast. If only I could find a way under ground I might be able to gain my bearings and make my way back to a dock with a ship to take me to Lelion.

I was in a small town near hurm where I saw a woman scold her child. It reminded me of when Mistress Chanda scolded Myrena and questioned her of the 7 "laws" of Corath. I learned of the 1st and 7th. Intresting to say the least.

I am growing a bit bored of teaching Cassandra the ways of the drow and our language. While she is intelligent and seems to grasp the language quickly, her fat fingers will never be capable of forming the complex, yet simple to a drow, symbols. I do not blame her, after all not all can be born perfect. I would like to think she is learning at a pace beyond the average lesser race, but I have never taken on a lesser race as a pupil. Therefore I do not know. She has been rather useful as of late, but she expects these "tasks" of me that are driving me mad. I shall have to find a slave to the do the work for me.

I learned of a palemaster by the name of Arakanor Lightbane from Chanda. I believe she said he was dead and knew of another Palmaster. I have become fond of the art of necromancy and the power of a palemaster intrigues me. I shall have to find more information on these two palemasters. I must admit however that what I know so far does not overly impress me. Why become a palemaster when you could strive to be a lich? A palemaster seems so, "second place" to me.

[Drizzlin]

I went to the ruined temple of Baraeon Ca'Duz with Chanda and Cassandra. It angers me to see the temple in ruins. I spent the next two days in prayer seeking guidence from the Prince of Hate. He answered me on the third day. It seems his answering has also been a punishment. I can not tap into the raw power of the arcane as before and I am not sure why. I can not explain the way I feel. It is as if the Prince of Hate has touched me by answering my prayers. I can feel his divine favor. I only wish I had someone to help guide me and teach me the clerical ways of the Prince of Hate. For now I will do what the Prince of Hate tells me in my prayers. So far I have been rewarded with divine power and slowly some of my lost arcane power is returning...a small price to pay for the power rewarded to me for my faith.

[Drizzlin]

I rarely take note of the lesser races, much less put to pen about them. I however ran across one today whom I want to remember. Her name was Rhynn. This human female attempted to insult me today. I found it amusing how she went into a fit of rage over being called Mith's slave. It humors me that she would even believe I thought that highly of her. Where I come from slaves are valued and kept alive for their usefulness. The only way this Rhynn would ever stand a chance at being a useuful slave...would be the removal of her tongue and a lesson in manners.

More important maters...It seems the Soul Mother has returned. I only hope she finds the time to collect the souls of the weak and pathetic, such as this Rhynn.

[Drizzlin]

I have been rewarded by the Lord of Spiders. I was in need of guidance so I returned to the underdark. I spent months praying and searching for answers. It was only in darkness I was able to find light. I am to rebuild what was destroyed and web a weave of vengeance that will please the Lord of Spiders enough to reward me with the power to become a High Priest.

I long for the power of the arcane, but in time I shall recover it. I will focus on death and necromancy while making my soul one with the Prince of Hate. Through his will I shall become a focus for his hate and power.

[Drizzlin]

It is time for me to again focus on the Arcane. I have pleased The Prince of Hate and his power is my reward. I have been traveling a lot with Bakee, the follow of Prytechon. She serves me well and has become a valued servant. I am sure she doesn’t see it that way, but those who are foolish enough to think they hold any sway over me, shall be the first to burn.

I find it sickening when I travel with the likes of these lesser races, however one must keep their allies close, and their enemies closer. It has been some time since I have seen the temple of Corath, but one is to expect their treachery. If they do not come in the time of need, they shall be next to feel the poison of vengeance.

Since coming to the surface my faith has been tested, my patience pushed beyond breaking point, and as a result my resolve has only grown stronger. I will keep my intentions in the shadows of those whom think me their ally. I shall even continue to stand beside the darthir, smiling, all the while plotting their demise. The time is near.

[Drizzlin]

Today was rather amusing at first, but I grew bored with it quickly. I was preparing to gather some Topaz when I ran into Lillian. She offered to join and I saw no reason to say no. Lillian is a rather useful as long as she can be manipulated to serve my interests. She had her companion with her, more like her pet on a leash, a rather annoying bard by the name of Lyle.

Lyle proceeded by insulting me, or rather trying to insult me for being a Drow. Personally I could not have expected a better complement. Lyle is of little use to me outside of him keeping Lillian happy, which he failed miserably to do today. Lyle pushed me beyond my will with is mouth and weakness. The only use Lyle serves seems to be that of a vulture. I however find it hard to even give Lyle that much credit. At least a vulture has the intelligence to flee from danger. Lyle chose to stand in the way of a Giant and fell. The fool fell too close to the giant and it grabbed the coin from his body and fled as we finished slaughtering the giants that remained behind.

You would assume if someone was worthless, that given the chance to be of some use they would not fail. Lyle cost me gold, so I was no longer amused by his petty insults. I suppose I can not blame Lyle. Rather I think Lillian is to blame. After all if she didn’t keep his leash so tight, perhaps he could wonder off out of the range of danger and would never have been anywhere near the giants in the first place. I suppose this is what one is to expect from the lesser races.

[Drizzlin]

I made a pact with a human wizard of no consequence, but never less he goes by the name Malor. This wizard and I have agreed to barter spells to fill our spell books. I actually intend to maintain this relationship, well at least until I have learned all he has to give.

I ran into a Dark Elf who smelt of sweet home, and had a fire in her that rivaled my hate for the lesser races. She seemed to follow me around, so I confronted her. She goes by the name Shri. With the blessing of the Prince of Hate I derived that she seems worships the ways of Vierdri’ira, because I doubt she follows the Fire Lord or Branderback.

I have seen too many Drow on the surface no longer worthy of being called Drow. From this day forth I shall call them Darthir, for they have become nothing short of the pathetic traders they bed with. To test Shri I took her into the forest and slaughtered every animal I came upon. If only the Darthir were around to watch their beloved forest creatures tortured and left to rot upon the forest floor. Shri seemed just as pleased as I in the torture of the forest creatures. Bakee was at my side of course, and as always she enjoyed the slaughter of the weak.

It has come to my attention that Mith plays Bakee or is attempting to win her loyalty. I shall have to keep a close eye upon him when around her. Perhaps the time is drawing near to end the life of my powerful adversary.

If Shri proves useful, I shall recruit her to the cause of rebuilding the temple of the Prince of Hate. If she turns out to be as worthless as the Darthir, I will take pleasure in flaying her skin and then let my familiar feed upon her intestines.

[Drizzlin]

I am once again able to take to memory arcane spells of the 3rd circle. I still do not know why I have lost the ability to hold the spells of power to memory that I once did. I have spent countless hours trying to recall them to memory, but they elude me. It frustrates me, but my progress as of late brings some pleasure to me. For now the trials I face will be worth my dedication when the time comes for vengeance upon the Darthir. I shall bask in the pain upon their faces as I rip their souls out and bind them in the gems I wear about my neck.

[Drizzlin]

There had been word of a powerful item, emitting strong negative energy, in the hands of the locals in Dalanthar. Naturally I went to investigate it. When I showed up a few others were already there and interested in what turned out to be a ring, but none of them were of any consequence. It did not take me long to figure out the nature of the ring the locals had, despite the efforts of the spoiled rotten brat, known as Rhynn.

It seems Malor beds with the wench, which I find utterly amusing. Does Malor not know that Rhynn has whored her way from the likes of Mith to Ozy? I am a bit bewildered at why she is slumming in the bed of Malor though; he has little to offer her. I hold more power in my index finger, than Malor has in his entire body. Perhaps with Mith’s disappearance and I can only hope the death of Ozy, Rhynn needs a new babysitter?  Perhaps Mith and Ozy were to powerful for her simpleton mind and she needed a weaker lackey such as Malor? Can Malor not see how worthless Rhynn is? He can find a tramp at any local tavern that can please him physically, and with some luck those women might come mute. If Malor can not be made to see this, then when I have Bakee remove the head of Rhynn and place it on the mantel within my worshiping chambers, I will have her do Malor a favor and remove his as well. It is a shame, while Malor is weak, he showed promise. From this day forth I shall refer to Rhynn as the “idiot”. While I mean no injustice to the mentally ill, I simply can not find any other group that she fits with so well. After all an idiot is often referred to as a person having a mental age of two years or less…

After the “idiot” became possessed by the ring and her spoiled rotten inner child took over, she said the ring told us to go to North Point. I could only laugh as no one listened to me and they followed the “idiot” to the docks leading to North Point. While I was amused and willing to walk halfway across the continent to prove the “idiot” wrong, I had no intention of getting on a ship, even if it would have been extremely satisfying to see the faces on everyone when they found out exactly how clueless the “idiot” truly is. It was only at the point of getting on the ship that the others finally listened to me and even the “idiot” was able to discover the difference between Mountains and North Point.

Once we were finally going the correct way, the “idiot” tried to have me “voted’ out of the party, as if I would have left. What did the “idiot” think I would do? Leave because a lesser race, not even worthy of being my slave, much less traveling with me had raised his hand and voted me to go away? Regardless, the only one who sided with her out of the nine was a paladin of Toran, go figure. The ring led us to a fiddle and Violin. I simply do not understand how some can call themselves wizards and true practitioners of the arcane weave. The fools we had with us, being lead by the “idiot” of course, didn’t want to let a Necromancer study a necromantic item in order to understand what it did. Why were they even there? Did they not want to discover the nature and power of the item? It was obvious the ring attracted undead, for they were following us everywhere. But the “idiot” and her crew refused to want to understand why or how to stop it. Instead they wanted to travel from city to city, bring undead in their wake on the locals of each town; and yet they call me evil…

After Malor, Rhynn, and Storold wasted hours of their lives staring at the fiddle and Violin, unable to even begin to understand their properties (due to their simpleton minds) I was able to handle the fiddle. After simply touching it I understood its properties and nature, which out of the kindness of my heart I told them the fiddle seemed to have a soul in it, or perhaps a fragment. After I told them the properties of the fiddle, and then said I needed to see the ring to confirm how the soul was bound, or to find out exactly what was trapped in the fiddle…the “idiot” threw a temper tantrum. She did everything short of falling on the ground flailing her arms like a two year old child…imagine that. Malor of course ran to her aid and begged her to stay so that she could continue “leading” everyone in the wrong direction. Naturally after having her ego rubbed, she stayed.

After I solved in a matter of seconds, what they had been unable to do over the last few hours, they wanted the fiddle back immediately to check the validity of my assessment. With my guidance even the simpletons and the “idiot” were able to understand the nature of the fiddle. You would think my point had been proven and they would want me to look at the violin and ring. It was at this point I came to the realization that the group cared nothing of discovering the nature of the items. They were not there for knowledge and understanding in the hopes of becoming more powerful. For knowledge is power. While I surely care nothing of the locals, I would have thought the paladin to at least have some interest in their well being, but I was apparently wrong. No these simpletons, led by their fearless “idiot” were only interested in trying to make a name for themselves by trying to seem important to the locals. Perhaps the simpletons and their “idiot” have some deep underlying issues causing them to fill empty without having some “task” to do.

Rather than give me a few moments to attempt to understand the ring and violin, the simpletons and their ring leader then proceeded to run about the world asking farmers and peasants for advice about the ring and violin. Rather than go to a cleric to mend a broken bone, these fools would go to the blacksmith. Of course the undead followed us into every town, terrorizing the locals. Now I wasn’t bothered by that, but I was caught off guard with the fact that none of the others even cared what they were doing. Yet again I am the evil one…who only wanted to “take the ring and leave”. The truth is the simpletons wanted to take the information I discerned and run to every town pawning it off as their own. Again this must be in some hope of the locals thinking them smart and praising them.

[Drizzlin]

A High Priest came to me with a task that had been passed down. It seems I am to kill a child, a child who is believed to be the very blood or Toran himself. This is a test, one I shall not fail. I have enlisted Cassandra to aid in this task.

[Drizzlin]

The task is complete, but not as planned. I found the child, but the information I had was pathetic. The child was no mere child at all, but a human boy around the age of seventeen. Cassandra and I used disguises and masked ourselves as a cleric and paladin of Toran. Rather amusing when I think about it. When we found the boy, he was under trial and being sentenced to death for the murder of his wife.

I waited until the night watch and “relieved” the guard on duty so that I could be alone with the boy. I feed the boy and poisoned him. As he was dying, or so I thought, I revealed to him the nature of his assailant and why he was being assassinated. Upon doing so he reached through the cage with godly power and laughed at my attempts. I thought that perhaps the child was posses by Toran himself, until I focused on the power within him. There was even and hate within that child and the creature that possessed the boy.

I suspect another deity was toying with this child, perhaps Corath. Either way the child was put to death. Despite the pathetic efforts of the Toranites to guard him.

[Drizzlin]

It occurred to me that I never wrote about the results and findings of the necromancers ring. It turns out the ring had the ability to break a part the soul of the necromancer and place the parts within various items, like the instruments. The necromancer was on to something. It seems he found a way to cheat the soul mother and was even perhaps creating a phylactery, but I doubt the latter.

In the end the necromancer was nothing more than a nuisance and we put him down. Before I helped kill him, I made sure that I could not learn anything else from the ring or a way to use it myself. The magic of the ring was destroyed with the necromancer and any chance to duplicate its affects. The fools, especially Rhynn, were right not to trust me I suppose. Had I found a way to use the ring, I would have killed them all and kept it for myself. Since that was not the case, I helped these paladins and clerics kill an innocent necromancer, who by no accounts, at least not ones that could be proven, had broken the first law. They had no proof the necromancer had even committed a crime. After all the souls within the instruments were his own. How funny they chose to ignore that simple fact and slaughter the necromancer in the name of justice. Justice for what I ask? Their greedy desires to be labeled heroes of the land of course…

[Drizzlin]

I have invested a lot of time and energy into Lillian, molding her into something more fitting to be within my presence. When I first met her, she showed potential, but was blinded by fools such as Lyle and her faith in Deliar. Lyle proved a simple matter to remove from the equation, but Deliar has take time and work. Due to Lillian's imperfections, such as her lesser race and gender, I sought the teachings of lesser god for her, Branderback.

I seeded those teachings within her and I have continued to show her what she can gain by forgoing Deliar for Branderback. I even went as far as to purchase a banner and symbol of Branderback for her. Sometimes during my quests for amusement, I end up amazing myself. With Lillian following Branderback, it will become far easier to have her do my biddings. The webs I weave, such as these, gain me favor in the eyes of the Prince of Hate, and through that favor my power grows.

Speaking of others doing my biddings; there is a human rogue by the name of Kinai that is now in servitude to me. I have not decided what suffering and torment I shall put her through for my amusement. She has physical potential, but lacks foresight. I took a vial of her blood with a sacrificial dagger I use for rituals and sacrifices. I am currently researching a few rituals to take advantage of the blood. For now I am going to see how far she bends. If  she breaks, I will find another.

[Drizzlin]

The Lord of Spiders grants favor to those who weave webs of decent and hate. With those webs the foundation of vengeance is laid and turned upon his enemies. Only then will the Lord of Spiders reveal his favor.  Hawklen, a fool at best, cursed with madness and doomed with the blood of a Darthir. If I were short sighted, I would have killed him upon our first meeting, robbing myself of the pleasures to come..

I am taking on a young half breed, barely six years of age,  as an apprentice as a "favor" to Kinai. Kinai believes her daughter possess the talent to wield the weave. I have convinced Kinai that through my tutelage her child will grow in power, which is not completely untrue, however it is not my goal. Instead, I will break this child and turn her into an instrument of mine to serve the Prince of Hate. I will make her all that Hawklen envied and hated in me. When I am done, if she becomes a practiced mage, so be it. If she fails, then I will do to here what I should have done to her father...

The only sounds heard over the crackling fire are the quiet sobs of uncertainty and fear coming from the crouched child. The warm flames filling her with a false sense of security as she clings to the edge of the fire's heat, partially in search of warmth from the cool evening breeze, but more importantly out of fear for what may lie in the shadows beyond the lights reach. If only she knew. If she were not so young, she might think it strange that not even the sound of chirping grasshoppers can be heard this night. Fear has a way of blinding reasons and logic. If only she knew what lurks above her, she would know real terror.

In the trees far above the fire, watching in complete silence, sit four guardians of hate and vengeance, their mandibles sliding back and forth in anticipation. On each guardian a set eight deadly blades, four feet in length, that serve as legs. Each leg aimed down towards the child ready to pounce up an unsuspecting victim. Their task had been given the night before, they dare not move, not even as the mother of the child said her goodbye that evening. They are cold and calculating with their patience while ever vigilant, which is as natural an instinct to the sword spider, as breathing is to the child. For the child's sake, their fear and loyalty to their master keep them at bay. Their purpose this night is not to feast, but to guard the child and allow nothing near her. Not even her mother, should she have chosen to return. Their final command, the one they desire to carry out the most, should the child run, leaving the light of the fire, kill it..

In a dark chamber, lit by only a single candle, a dark elf, known as Magus Daralith Del'Mar to most, watches the entire scene unfold through a pool of water; the blessing of Baraeon Ca'Duz's fueling the power of the scrying magic. A smile of pure hate creeps across the dark elf's face as he watches with pleasure at the child's fears and doubts. With but a thought he could command the spiders to fall upon the child and watch them feast upon her entrails. But no, now is not the time for that, he has plans for this child that go beyond the quick satisfaction of hearing her dying screams as his servants feed. No they will have to find their own meal this evening, for the child belongs to him.

With a wave of his hand the image fades from the water. Turning, he checks the chamber, visually inspecting every ward's integrity before grabbing his staff. Extending his hand he pauses to give the spider hanging from his robe time to reach the ground and scurry off to some feast tucked away in a web. Most would cringe and flail about if a spider hung from their robes, even more so if the spider came in contact with their flesh, but to the followers of Baraeon Ca'Duz, the dance of a spider upon their skin or the occasional sting from their bite brings such ecstasy and pleasure that could only be reproduced to others through sexual gratification. Grabbing his staff he utters a small cantrip"Valsharuu" and the flicker of the flame dies as the wall opens and closes behind him.

The journey from his chambers lead to various side tunnels under the earth that eventually bring Magus Del'Mar heading towards the mouth of the cave where the child lies waiting. It would take most about six hours to travel the distance between the two, but aided with magical means of travel, the journey is short.

A soft sob echoes down the cave just as the light of the flame becomes visible to the light sensitive eyes of the drow. Smirking, he adjusts the bag on his back, careful not to crush the rabbit within. As quietly and softly as a spider, Magus Del'Mar makes his way up to the edge of the cave and stops to watch the child. Amused that Kinai actually went through with the ordeal, he steps out from the cave and looks at the child. To his surprise, she snaps her attentive gaze in his direction, apparently aware of his presence the entire time. Narrowing his eyes he takes note of her vigilance and keen senses of her elven heritage.

With a smirk, "Well what do we have here?" Biting back her tears she replies, "Are you Daralith?"
Anger flashes in his eyes, causing the child to reflexively recoil. In a correcting tone, "Magus Del'Mar. If you ever call me by any other name again, there will be consequences. Are we clear?"

Gulping, her response barely a whisper, "Yes Magus Del'Mar. My name is Seras, my mommy said..."

Cutting her short with an angry look and the wave of his hand, "Your mommy is dead to you, never mention her again. Your mommy cares nothing of you, or she would not have sold you to me; and if you ever even think of mention daddy, there will be consequences. Forget all that your mother has told you, forget all that the demon tainted Dur'thak showed you. What I say is all that matters. I am your mommy, daddy, and master now. I your mentor and god now."

Interrupting the Mage, with a look of shock Seras questions, "Dur'thak is a demon? Like a devil?" With such speed and grace, that of which she has only seen in the likes of her mother, Magus Del'Mar closes the ten feet of distance between them. With barely enough time for the look of sheer horror to come across her face, Daralith, with his magically enhanced strength of a giant, backhands the child; the cracking of bone and a dull thud are all that are heard as the child is sent flying a good ten feet away.

To shocked to cry, to hurt to stand, and chocking on the blood in her mouth she clings to consciousness as the dark elf watches, not caring if he just killed her. With surprise the child soon recovers, sobbing and holding her mouth she struggles to find her balance to stand again before spitting out three teeth.
 
Watching from above the chaotic minds of the guardians begin filling with pleasure at the sight of their master as he exits the cave, anticipation swelling at the thought of their duty coming to an end and perhaps their reward being the soft flesh of the child. Watching the scene unfold below they remain ever vigilant for any intruders who would dare come close to their master. As the scene unfolds the guardians vile hearts begin to race, barely able to contain themselves as the child flies out of the light, sent their by their master, an obvious reward for their loyalty.

Movement in the trees above catches Daralith's eyes, softly cursing, remembering his orders, "Should she leave the light of the fire, kill her", he casts quickly, with the skill of a seasoned mage with centuries of training. "Talma Valliree Uthvas" Instantly the flame of the fire grows, doubling in size, covering the child in the protection of the light once more.
   
A screeching cry echoes through the trees above, a sound of frustration and anger.  Now satisfied that the guardians above are not falling on the child, Daralith stops to take a moment to judge her reaction before speaking. Smirking he looks at the broken child, her jaw dangling as she tries desperately to slide it back in place, but to his surprise she stops the sobbing to look at him. Too most they would mistake that look as fear, but not Daralith. His life of treachery, hate and vengeance know that look all to well. Daralith's keen eyes see through the visage. Hidden behind the innocence there is a look of hate and anger. Smirking Daralith approaches the child satisfied. Slowly the child looks at her teeth laying on the ground, debating whether or not to bend over and pick them up.

"Do not worry child, you were going to loose them soon anyway, more will grow back. I did you a favor." Looking down at her and then holding his hand out, "When it comes to consequences, that is the best I have to offer you. And it will never get that good again."  Still holding his hand out, "Now take my hand and come closer to the light."

Hesitant she takes his hand and follows, doing as her mother told her, but more importantly doing as the vile creature holding her hand instructed her.

Taking the child's jaw in his hand, "Now I will show you that I am as I said. I am your father, your mentor, and your god now." Motioning to her broken jaw, "I can take away, but I can also give. I can be cruel, but my rewards are like no other."

With one hand on her jaw and the other about a spider amulet on his neck, "Lilith mowarth ragaloth". The child bites back a scream as a loud pop comes from her jaw as it resets itself and begins to heal. To the child's surprise the aching in her head subsides as she once again moves her jaw freely.
   
Reluctantly, "Thanks Magus Del'mar" Smirking, "Save your thanks and never utter them unto me again. Here is the first of many lessons. Never do anything for free and never expect gratitude for your actions. Your actions should have a purpose to which serves your best interests. If someone temporarily benefits from you actions, then make them repay you. Do not accept a pathetic "thanks" as payment for the value of your services."

From a bag at his waist he removes a rabbit. The child watching, wondering what cruel thing will be done to her next stares at the rabbit with curiosity. "Now child, everything is a test, remember that. Failure has consequences, need I remind you?" Handing the rabbit to the girl, "This is yours to care for. Now come, we have a long journey ahead of us."

Taking the rabbit with a smile, the child looks up to say thanks, but catches herself quickly, biting her tongue, drawing blood. Looking up she realizes the Dark Elf is watching her entire reaction intently, studying her every move and amused by it all. Turning Daralith heads for the cave, the child taking one last look out into the darkness, wondering if her mother is watching and says one last goodbye to the life she knew before heading down into the dark cave...

[Drizzlin]

Seras's Training, Second Entry

   The damp cool air of the underdark, even within the confines of her new masters chambers, brought chills to Seras and at times made her shiver to the bone. Something she dare not do while practicing her scribing, or suffer "consequences". The room had a heat source, a fire that burned without smoke, but Daralith limited her use of it and strictly forbid her using it during her daily task. Part of her daily routine involved the scribing of the arcane alphabet and symbols, which she had been told, that when done properly, could bring magic to life. As usual, she stood on the stone floor, barefoot and wearing a simple apprentice robe, as instructed.

On this day the room seemed far cooler than normal. Little did she know today was going to be an official test, not that it mattered, because she had learned that night by the fire to remember well every detail of every word her master uttered. Daralith had made it clear on that night, that everything is a test. Living by that kept her on her toes and as ready as she could be for what ever grueling task he had in mind.

The night before, Daralith had cast a simple cantrip to keep the ground at her work bench at near freezing and was watching her through a scrying pool as Seras stood on one foot at a time, giving her other foot a break from the freezing cold stone floor. The dark elf looked into the scrying pool and smirked as he remembered doing that very same dance during his training at the academy almost two hundred years ago.

Standing on one foot she brought her other foot up, resting the bottom of it on her inner thigh, just above the knee. Doing so allowed her to rotate warming the souls of her feet and formed a distinct number 4 with her legs to help maintain her balance. With careful strokes she began her work, taking care to time her shivers and shakes between her strokes with the quill and maintain balance as she danced from one foot to the other.

Under the extreme conditions she focused on her every move, maintaining her breathing at a slow rate and holding her breath as she put the quill to paper. She pushed the cold out of her mind and fought the urge to give up. While Daralith had never said so, she knew that quitting was not an option and she feared the consequences more that death itself. She had come to learn that her master's cruelty knew no bounds when it came to failure.  

The mere thought of her master caused the shiver running up her leg to continue all the way up her spine, causing her to delicate fingers to tremble. Cursing softly at the smudged line before her and almost breaking down at the thought of consequences that would be dealt to her for the mistake, she bit her lip, drawing blood. Frozen in fear, the taste of her own blood snapped her out of the daze. She thought of trying to correct the mistake, but she had come to learn that no matter how perfect she thought her corrections, her master could pick every single shake and shiver she had done with but a glance.

Gritting her teeth she bit back the shivers and tried to finish her work. Looking up at the sand in the hour glass the walls of her chambers begin to close in around her as hopeless began setting in. There was no way she would finish her work before her master's daily visit. She had but moments before Daralith would arrive to teach her the daily lessons in the dark elf language and sign...