Null'Dia; Female Drow Ranger


Underdark, 1404 NT Het jaar van de Demonische Duivels - 11e dag overvloedsmaand:

Het Einde…

I remember the pain, the searing jolt of dark magic that stripped away every inch of life. Every agony, will and wants. The heightened tableau whereupon I fell did not get noticed, for my life has left my body long before…
The command came to me, the Lady needed a sacrifice in blood. A beast should be slaughtered to thank her for her guidance, I did not waver. The biggest life I could offer was my own.. or one of these High Priestesses. I glazed at her magical enhanced armour… What chance did I have? imagine my -and het her!- surprise when my swords gutted her. Not once but even twice.
My Sister and the sorceress turned, off course, on me. What choice did they have.
Again I was blessed by our Dark Goddess, their magic could not touch me.
The outcome however was already know to me, how could it otherwise be. Chaos was served but now order had to be restored. A hand was layed upon me and that was it…
I am dead.
Finally in the blessed realm of our Spider Queen.

Underdark, 1404 NT Het jaar van de Demonische Duivels - 3e dag overvloedsmaand:


I remember the mist, the cold of the reddish cobbles of the courtyard whereupon I lie, beaten but not broken, hurt but not dying… not yet anyway. A group of dark figures encircle me. Stick and stones in their slender hands. These are my fellow students at this fine academy… Spurred on by their successes on the divine magic of our beloved spider Queen… The failure of mine. “Inbau ilta”! one sneers. “elgg ilta,” another hisses.. in the shadows of the students stands the familiar faces. The Karliik, the mistresses. They would approve of course…
A sharp pain fills my lungs. Some of the acolytes are trying their spells on me. It hurts. It hurts that my Goddess has approved their power over me… it is my fault. I will search my soul for any doubt, or the servants of Lolth will do it for me.
“Goheno nîn!” Ni care'vamme maure guiès, ni care-vamme maure mén! Ni care'vamme ë maure Sauoval -o sí so- Aina-ersh. Ni onlime maure ana sèrf. Ana serve'esse i nólë i tye, mime tar-, indóme n'serfé!:“ I yell with all my power.”
The pain subsides, a silence falls over the courtyard. A dark figure releases itself from the shadows and strides towards me… It is an Elf donned in heavy armour, a figure of authority.
“Do you know how you speak the tongue of the people of the sun?” he asked me harsh. “No my Lord”, I answer. My strength is fading. “Have you ever been on the surface? Speak; Rumno aterruce!” His voice again… “No my Lord”, please… I can not answer him anymore, I can not stand anymore, my leg betray me as I betray my beloved Godess for not showing defiance and strength.
I remember the darkness, the blissful absence of cold and pain. The time I am not aware of. The time of dying, the time I stand before my Goddess. I stand tall. Straight. Strong… I remember waking up. Back into the harsh world, the shaving of my skin of the planks which made my bedding….
My body is sore my mind fuzzy. In the sparsely lighted room I observe two figures. The heavily armoured Elf is sitting on a chair with his back turned to me. He (and now I realize he is a He!) is writing in some kind of journal, his helmet on top of his writing desk. The ghastly made metal face looking knowingly and ugly to me. On a little stool next to him sits a familiar person. my sister, my Vlos d'ussta vlos, my better even. She is sitting with her knees pulled up. Hugging them as if it will bring comfort to this conversation. It will bring none.
“Jhal Jabbuk, usstan xun naut ssinssrin ulu alu tarthe dal l'tier breche…”, she almost whispers. “Rivvin, Lotha uss! he speaks harsly. We use common within these walls. I know you are capable to use it.” “Forgive me Master, I will… do as you… say…” The hatred in her voice is clearly apparent. “I do not wish to leave the Academy of the Goddess, why should I leave with my dumb sister? She clearly has no power, no wisdom to instil the magic given by our Blessed Mother…”, every word spoken with more determination.
The man pinches the bridge of his nose and looked to my sister remaining silent for a few moments, observing her like she is a bug doing tricks.
“I must admire your bravoes standing up to me like that…, but I am Micarlin Tanor'Thal, First of my Order, Lord of Submission, Scourge of Witches! It is my bidding you will do and I demand your leave, with your sister from, not only this fine academy but also this great city! This is my calling and not a single spell-slinging, ancient tekst-mumbeling priestess will stop me in my quest! If you need counsel, ask your Jabbress!” With his right hand he grabs into a woven basket under his desk and rolls an item unto the floor… It is the severed head of our Head mistress.

Underdark, 1404 NT Het jaar van de Demonische Duivels - 2e dag overvloedsmaand:

Het vervolg…

I remember the mist, the cold of the grey flagstone whereupon I sit, battered but not broken… “zhah il k'jakr dro?”, a voice sneers in the distance. Is she still alive? Yes my dear, i am. “Üdos alur kri'sha nindol phor”, follu'oh l'Jabbress lore valyrine pholor nindol pholor“. Yes, I've wondered about that myself… Why does the Mistress of this education looks kindly on me. I can't phantom. She said I'm kl'eril, useless. Not clerical material at all. I heard the order of the lower mistress bestow on my sister to be done with me… which she flat out refused. I've caused her a lot of pain. It would be arrogance of me to think her refusal was out of kindred or love for me, I'm not waele rosin. It is clearly the Goddes of Darkness who put her mark on her on my behalve..
The voices drift away in the mist, The mist is replaced by the darkness.
Darkness which holds nothing to fear to me. Here I sit in the darkness. Observing, making notes in my head.
I see a person of interest, a cleric of House Olath Orbb. I raise and intend to follow her. She is trying to cover her path, but is easy to follow…

Als ik opsta in de schaduwen en mijn achtervolging inzet op deze Gekozene van de Orbb Valsharess, valt mij hoe zenuwachtig deze is. Met halfhartige pogingen probeert zij haar weg te maskeren. Pogingen die bij mij geen nut hebben… Ik zie haar, volg haar, lees haar… Ze heeft iets weg van een vluchtend wezen. Hoe gemakkelijk zou het zijn om haar levenskracht te laten ontsnappen uit haar ranke hals. De stemmen komen terug… ”…Naut nin, inlul uss! Dosst draeval ulu zotreth orn doer…“ De Dame waakt over mij. ze maant mij tot geduld.

Underdark, 1404 NT Het jaar van de Demonische Duivels - 1e dag overvloedsmaand:

Het begin…

I remember the mist, the cold of the black stone whereupon I lie, naked but unafraid… ”…zhah il dro?“ a voice whispers in the mist. “I prefer common, ussta lotha uss”, says another… “Forgive me, High One. Is she alive?” “Yes she is, but she shouldn't be. L'inthuul uss should have done with her… and yet here she is and our faithful servant laminated to the cave walls.” “Pah! L'inthuul uss has used the incantation wrong, surely. She was weak minded.” “This may be true… however a gift from the Spider Queen cannot so easily be dismissed and this was a gift, yathrin! A feeble little whelp like this should not stand a change towards our loyal Fuer'yon.” “Give me some grain of time and I will make this wretched babe disappear from our unblessed worlds…” “Careful, Screus uss, The Mistress of Webs will weave Her Own lines of the future. Who are we to doubt Her doings? And the Seer has foreseen this.” “That charlatan is been driven to the outskirts of the town, were she will befall to diseases which brings her poverty and no glory…” “As was ordered… Hm, we shall see if there was wisdom in that! You say this wretched thing came in twos? saim'sib?” “Yes, Obok uss, an other. But she has all the qualities we seek, nothing like the freak this is.”

As the mist of time part for the present. As minds of great thinkers are split by doubt. As bodies of lesser believers are parted by my knife in honour of You. You i will not name again. You who have chosen me. Given me life and the purpose to live. Tester of Time. I seek your approval or even a reason, but alas this will be my endless journey. Your silence, my life and love. Wich is pretty much the same…

Liggend op het koude zwarte marmer luister ik naar de stem in mijn hoofd. Zij spreekt tot mij, hoe heerlijk. Jammer dat onze Matron Mother niet ophoudt met spreken. Zij verstoord mijn gemoed. Ik zal haar daar niet op aanspreken. Ze zal het niet begrijpen, ze zal mij weer laten geselen door mijn zus of een andere beginnende gelovige.
Ik ben hier het gezelschap van haar en nog drie figuren, waarmee ik al eerder kennis heb mogen maken.Zesstra Hyluan een assassin waarmee ik lessen heb gevolgd, Vicconia Alaun'Kacha magister en Nymmed een Krijgster. Er volgt een opdracht, ik heb het weer gemist, ik hoop dat mijn zus ons op de hoogte stelt.
Met een hooghartigheid die van haar gewoon ben wordt mij het Plan verklaard. De Spinnenmoeder zet mij op een richting. Een richting die mij drukt in de omgeving van de achterbuurten. tussen hoeren en zwervers. Dronkelappen, moedige jongelingen en ouderen zonder hoop. Met 2 van mijn metgezellen van het Huis zullen wij een prooi zoeken en uitwringen voor informatie.




Null'Dia Jhalavar is de “Chaotic Evil” Ranger uit de party into the Dark. enz enz. Gelieerd aan het Huis Vlos Lodtynur. Huis Vlos Lodtynur ligt in de vesting genaamd I’Venorik Tonashss. De Party wordt geleid door Jasper. Null'Dia reist samen met Viconia Alaun'Kacha (Bertil), Nymmed, (Chiquita), Zesstra Hyluan (Bjorn) en Khaless Jhalavar (Bart).

nulldia.txt · Laatst gewijzigd: 2018/06/11 13:13 door simon