Things that make me smile

(An extract from Olath's diary)

Peeling off young, innocent elves. Yes, peel them, like you'd peel a apple, or even better, a juicy orange.
Smell the blood , so warm, so ruby , the magnificence of a new found jewel. A magic that renews itself with every life you take.

The subtle pleasure of leashing them to the wall, and wait, read the fear in their eyes, and just wait, let their mind fly through paths of utter complete terror.

Tell'em " you're free now , you may go " , and see the hope burning in their innocent, sparkling, naive eyes. Just before you kill'em.

And oh, the begging, celestial music to my old ears. You have everything, and give nothing but a few crumbles from your latest, exquisite meal. And see them crawl, like wild animals , filling their toothless mouth with your left overs.

A once noble creature completely tainted.

I have seen all that , something that a feeble non drow mind could never understand, let alone apprecciate. To be frank, even amidst my own kins someone finds my habit slightly disturbing.

And their lack of guts is not amusing.

A prisoner i am currectly overwatching: she can hold her hand still while i use my cane on her palm, and even count.
I enjoy that self control , i almost admire that steady resolution to obey , without even trying to think by herself.

Silly, ignorant , only half drow. But got guts and seems willing to serve: that is enough to bring a smile.

Just something that crossed my mind , i do not know why , or perhaps i know, and i am grinning at this very moment. Enjoying the reaction of some inferior being reading these lines.

Arken'Ghym Founding

::: Omulu sits down at her writingdesk, in front of her logs :::

((( Dear Diary ... )))

It has been many days ago, that me and the remains of my last Qu'ellar, the true descendants of Rilyn'afin, thus been rebirthed Rilyn'alean'Afin, has left the caves of Aglarond.
A true exodus if you will.
For days my Qu'ellar had travelled.
It needs no say we all survived.
However , it needs saying, that for reasons of security , we travelled seperatly.
In small groups.
That is because if one groups doesn't make it .. there is always a change another will.
It increases the odds of survival for the Qu'ellar as a whole, rather then the individuals.

We have settled down in Erebos.
A land wich we have found to be quite hospitable to Ilythiiri.
We have claimed our own cave system.
Invisible to the outside world, unless you know where to go.
Even the odds of stumbling upon it by accident , are minimal.

Let me see
recollect the memories.

Aaah yes. Siyo.
I don't think I will be able to recall all the events in chronological order.
But it makes no difference.
This log is for my personal use only.
I naut need to fear other eyes laying upon it.
First there was the poisoning of the surface's water supply.
The theft of their food.
The assault of the elf.
The slaying of the Guardian of Balance.
The torture of the Heretic.
Hunting the dwarf, in processing ... if you will ... .
And the addition of new minions.
Yessss.
Erebos is good to us.

As a final note.
I wish to confide to this parchment that we have abolished Rilyn'alean'Afin with the thought that if one wishes to rebuild anew, one needs to clear the way by getting rid of the old.
For now we are called Arken'Ghym.
As the name might suggest, it is lead by mage.
By me.
We are Mages of the Forgotten Ways.
For it seemed to be forgotten who we really are.
We are Ilythiiri.
And everyone shall know us to be so.
Ilythiiri who are True to the Old Ways.

The Coming

Turning and turning in the widening gyre ,
The spider couldnt hear its master.
Things fell apart , the center could not hold.
Mere anarchy was loose upon the underworld.
Broken was the holy knot , only whines, no more words:
Any hope for glory had drowned.
The best lacked all conviction, while the worst
Were full of passionate intensity.

But a revelation was at hand, a coming was at hand.
The Coming.
Hardly were those words out of my mouth
When a vaste image of Her glory
Troubled my sight: a city built from nothing but desert sand.

Then a shape: the beauty of a drow and the lion's strenght.
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun;
Her long , well shaped thighs moved, while all around
The indignant shadows of the ones she defeated
Joined a a choir , begging for mercy.

After centuries of stone sleep,
vexed to nightmares by a dusty cradle,
i was recalled.
The city rebuilt.

Sons and daughter of Menzoberranzan , and you, from all other cities
Bow to the new Ilharess, Jabbress Omulu.


:::::::::: Olath hands her this scroll , smirking softly " the least i could do the celebrate your Coming, and my own " :::::::::::::::


PS: inspired by a poem by W.B. Yeats

From Olath's diary

That is no place for a weak city. The humans
in one another's arms , the elves, like bird in the trees,
-those doggoned generations- keep breeding
all summer long.

Whatever is begotten born and dies, that is true.
One wins through skills, not through sheer numbers, that is also true, BUT ...

Let's face reality, we've been chased from city to city, these blasted surfacers have been too much for our rotten teeth. For my own rotten teeth.

I look in the mirror , no lines, of course, no wrinkles, but all the same i stay an aged drow.
My old body is no more
than a dusty, tattered coat,
crumbling away, second after second.
I can feel it fall, hour after hour.

The spring of my own life besieged.

It's time to act. It's time to stake everything on a single card.

For every tatter in my mortal dress, a spell.
Into the artefice of eternity, i must rest.

Once out of nature i shall never take my bodily form from any natural thing.
I won't be above, no, but by the side , by the side of this female mage,
too clever to be a mere puppet. Too clever to kill me now, while i'm still trapped in this decaying cage of meat and bones.

Enough of this , the most secret chest is my own mind, i believe Alev's spiders to be spying me, reporting everything to Omulu.
So be it, as long as she doesn't know i know, i still have an advantage.

About more practical matters:

I have been trying to hire some spy, and in the process, i let the surfacers believe i have more , customers, shall i say? than i actually have.
Mining their moral is the most reliable tactic i can think of.
As long as we are so weak and so proud, we need to act with unsurpassed skills.

I am too old to believe it's another test of LLoth , it's a mere wheel, which shall keep turning
and turning...
...and turning...

Untill you break it and make yourself free