One of the more surprising oddities was the drow. She was a haunted creature; wherever she went objects would randomly move by themselves, inexplicable cold winds would blow around her and there were sometimes disembodied whispers that followed her. This morning she woke up calling herself Lissa, claiming to be a cleric of the halfling god, Yondalla. It was startling at first, then amusing, then pleasant… then annoying. She looked down again at the infernal deva and waited along with the company for the inevitable…
“Thank you, Yondalla, for your protection and strength!”
They stared at the drow. That woman isn’t right, the halfling, Cassim, thought. He looked at the pool and wondered if he had enough oil handy to set it afire.
Lissa smiled at the company, her family. Together they had crushed this mighty foe. They began a search and Lissa began devising ways to get her brother halfling, Cassim, alone for a conversation about the virtues of the Bounteous Cornucopia. First, she’d have to fix him with a wife but that shouldn’t be difficult.
Cassim looked at her with annoyance and went to check the edges of the pool. Lissa smiled, knowing she’d win him over eventually. She would ply him with her wondrous baked bread, no one could resist! She was already looking forward to working in the kitchen at Reaver’s Rest Inn and seeing Calipheros again.
The cleric of Tyr, Amalielle, had set about cleansing the skull of the deva, a wise and compassionate choice. The miserable thing had been a nightmare. They were going to perform the last steps to consecrate its remains and free it forever. Lissa wondered why she hadn’t thought of it first.
A voice behind her whispered, “Because you don’t care.”
She started and turned around. Nothing there but the pool. Water cascaded from the dragon sculptures on the walls and her companions were spread throughout the chamber, but there was nothing else. She felt cold.
She looked over and saw the tiefling, Kilarra, staring at her. Her face was a confused mask of equal parts longing and malice. The young thing was doubtless troubled and in combat she spoke in dire words and curses. It was one thing to strike an enemy down, but to wish it such ill will! She would surely invite Kilarra to her chat with Cassim… with some warm baked bread and butter. Lots of butter!
The search proved unfruitful and the group discussed its next move. A night’s rest to heal and recuperate was deemed the best move, but none of the company wanted to stay in the scrying room. A portal had been discovered in the deepest part of the pool and no one wanted to be asleep if something stepped through it. The hulking half-orc hefted the dead deva’s weapon, a huge morning star, and the group followed her up the winding stair. Lissa stopped at the foot of the stairs and pulled out her waterskin.
It had been a terrible battle. Her entire body was still sore and every move was painful. The tainted deva had called for Lissa’s skin and some hellish power came to rip it from her body! It nearly killed her. She took a drink from her waterskin, listening to her companions upstairs. They were recounting the battle. The halfling offered to light a fire for the remainder of the night.
She moved to take another drink when a frigid wind from out of nowhere nearly blew her over. The door to the stairs slammed shut. The cold wind assailed her again, blowing the waterskin from her hand. She clapped her hands over her ears as a dozen whispering screams assailed her. Lissa shrieked out to Yondalla and the screams got louder. Another blast of cold air hit her and she staggered back toward the pool, trying to escape the biting wind and the relentless, disembodied voices. She stumbled over the pool’s ledge and fell in. The water had turned frigid and the biting icyness of it made her scream again. The winds had turned the pool into a storm and the drow gasped for breath. She found her footing in the waist-deep water and in an instant her black metal morning star was in her hand. She screamed again, but this time in a vicious rage.
“Your soul will serve me after I TEAR IT FROM YOUR WRITHING BODY! YOU’LL DIE WEAK AND IN SHAME! LIGHT ON YOU!”
At once, the voices were quiet and the wind stopped. The pool calmed but the drow still shivered as she readied her morning star. Soon the only noise was the water streaming from the mouths of the dragon head sculptures. Then she saw it.
She hadn’t noticed earlier that the dragon heads were chromatic dragons. They were green and blue, two of each. The jaws hung low where the water flowed and streamed into the pool. One of the green dragon head had something in its mouth, resting behind the fangs of the lower jaw. Her eyes locked on it. How could it have been missed? A scythe rested in the jaw of the green dragon, the tip of its blade rested quietly in the water. She waded through the water up to the dragon’s face.
The blade was at least three feet long, smoky black and etched with strange runes. The snath was almost as long as she was tall, gnarled, dark brown, and wrapped in ribbons of iron. The grips were gray and smooth as… bone.
A gift from Yondalla! Her face twitched and she knew it wasn’t true. But it was! Yondalla the Cornucopia, a harvester! She remembered her father harvesting wheat with a scythe like this one. Did she? She seemed to recall her father’s blade gleamed in the sun and the handle was white pine. White pine… it was such a commodity. House Duskryn was one of the few houses in Menzoberranzan that could acquire it in bulk. Mother loved white pine! No, not mother. The Matron Mother? Yes, dear sweet Matron Mother! She loved white pine so much Lissa had seen her take a male’s arm off at the elbow when he didn’t deliver the required shipment. She fed it to the house spider!
Another voice calmly whispered, “You are not a halfling, fool.”
I’m not? But halflings live in the ground… I lived in the ground.
“You lived much deeper and much darker. You are Aunrae Duskryn, a drow, the last of your house. All of them are dead but you.” The rasping voice was closer.
My family? No, it is nearly fall and father will be harvesting wheat soon. He will be out in the sun with his scythe. I spent so much time with him in the sun! She looked at the skin on the back of her hand. How else could I be this way?
“You were born to live in the darkness. You know that the sun darkens the skin of surface dwellers only because your half-brother told you after one of his ventures. He is dead, you arranged his death. You forsook your family and its petty spider god.”
No, I am one of Yondalla’s chosen! I protect my family and…
“Pick up the scythe,” the voice sounded like it was gargling grave dirt.
Suddenly, the scythe had an ominous look to it. Lissa thought she saw a skull in the smoky black blade. The runes shifted and coalesced into a hangman’s noose. She didn’t want to touch it. Her hands trembled and her morning star fell from her hand to the bottom of the pool. Something was making her step closer. She began to sweat, even in the frigid water. She saw flares of white light that seared her mind. A hundred ghostly voices swirled around her and demanded she pick up the scythe. A hundred more voices burned inside her head, pleading that she run away. With a scream she leapt at the dragon’s head, grasping the snath on either side of dragon’s jaw. The rock gave way and snapped. The room seemed to explode in darkness and there was an eerie silence. A thousand disembodied voices rose in a horrifying shriek, all of them threatening, craving, pleading, demanding, and begging entrance into the world.
Aunrae stood up and let loose a wail of her own, this time in triumph. She held the scythe aloft and saw a thousand dark wraiths, spectres and shadows bowing before her. Some had been kings and princes, murdered by rivals. Others had been sages, cut off from their books too soon. Lovers, beggars, cowards, the foolhardy, the brave… all of them driven to undeath by some tragedy or another. All of them looking for a way back to the world to set things right. Aunrae was their conduit, their guide, their keeper, their matron. They loathed and loved her. She laughed and swung the scythe’s blade through the water. Silence fell again and the darkness evaporated.
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