[[IMPORTANT: do not reply. purely for story progression!]]

Eliel swept the mantle over his shoulders, the pelt growing to cover his form. Once covered and sealed in, the pelt shrunk, compressing him into the form of a rather large wolf with crimson eyes. He padded along the tunnel, becoming more on edge as he came near the archway to the cave that held Menzoberranzan.

Eliel passed through the spider statues seemingly without trouble, not causing any trouble as a wolf. He only had about a minute of walking before hitting the market district, looking around at the mixed crowd. Pack animals were led by goblins, goblins led by drow commoners, and drow rushing out of the way of the nobility. Eliel looked around as he approached an alleyway, padding in quickly.

Once in the back, he felt a couple of packs slung over his back. He looked back, head snapping to a figure. A drow man stood over him, looking him over. “I must say, Eliel. You get yourself in quite a bit of trouble. When I heard, I could have hurt you myself. But count yourself lucky to be my friend.” He winked at him.

“Haven’t heard from you since you paid me for your scimitar being fixed.” He said, Pattin Eliel's furry back as the two began walking. The drow smith took hold of a muzzle and fitted it over his snout, drawing an intense glare from Eliel.

“It’s necessary. The priestesses wouldn’t let you near without it. Good god man, you’d better pray to whatever god you serve now this all works out. I don’t think my house would take you without Lolth’s blessing.” He sighed, leading him through the temple doors. Eliel shrugged off the packs, letting his only friend in the dark lands take them. He walked off towards one of the private rooms, which held a shrine to Lolth.

Eliel deactivated the cloak, pulling the muzzle off as he stood, tucking the wolf pelt away. Eliel’s heart was in his throat as he knelt on all eight legs, head bowed in front of the statuette.

“Lolth, I come before you humbled and punished. I wish an audience, queen, regarding your punishment being lifted for my service to one of your more favored houses.” He said, eyes never opening, head never rising.

A hiss could be heard as a rift opened, a shapeless mass coming through. Eliel tensed as the yolchol entered the room. It looked him over, form shifting to take on the guise of a drow woman, dressed in very little. Eliel felt a light blush as it looked over him.

Deciding he would have to speak first, he looked up a little. “Handmaiden, I would like to discuss the possibility of this curse being lifted.” He said shakily. Not many things could scare the drow man, but lolth and her servants were enough to make the most battle-hardened veteran quake.

The yolchol gave a laugh as he spoke. “And why, I ask, would that happen? What could you do that would even make our goddess consider removing a curse lain upon you by one of her own servants?” It hissed mockingly.

“I can serve under the house of my enemy as a servant, fighting with them, teaching them proper technique with the blade.” He said, biting his lip. This was it. The moment of truth.

The yolchol, instead of laughing, flew into a furious fit. “Bah! I do not see how your offer compares! Their house is liked by Lolth, why should she curse them with your pre—“She stopped mid rant, eyes clenched. Eliel was scared of this beautiful drow figure before him, whose face was twisted into a mask of fury.

After a couple moments, she calmed a little, mouth opening and closing, looking away. “Unfortunately, our goddess sees something in you I do not. She has accepted your offer. You are to serve under their smith as an apprentice and a slave, a life without honor.” She said.

Eliel exhaled in relief, looking at the statuette thankfully. The yolchol reached a hand for his throat, making him tense. A delicate finger traced his collarbone, surprising the man. Eliel’s eyes shot wide as black fingers dove beneath his flesh, seizing the delicate-looking chain there.

The handmaiden tore it from his flesh, tearing skin neatly. She gave an unnecessarily painful tug to complete the removal and waved a careless hand at his throat. The flesh knitted together, but the pain remained. His lower body shifted and crunched, legs retracting and fusing together, deflating. The extra eyes shrunk back, disappearing into his forehead.

Eliel lay there, panting. Sweat poured from his brow, gauntlet clenching and unclenching. After what seemed an eternity, he found the strength to stand. Clearing his head, he walked from the room, adjusting his clothing to fit him better.

The smith spotted him and ran over, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him. The two walked out silently, making it past the temple guards and into the abandoned area of Menzoberranzan.

Once out of sight and earshot of anybody, the smith chuckled and clapped his hand down on eliel’s back. “Very nice work, friend. Very nice. I’d never have thought you’d do it. He watched him, chuckled fading away into a smile. “So how do you plan on getting away?” He asked.

Eliel thought. “I have no idea. It’s all been improvised to here.” He shrugged, checking his equipment as the smith’s jaw dropped. “Has anybody ever told you you’re incredibly stupid?” The drow asked.

Eliel laughed as he thought about Cordelia. “Many a time, good friend.” He smiled, turning to face the general direction of their destination, the smith’s house palace. The two walked, trading jokes and laughs, talking to each other. Eliel stopped for a moment by the stall of a weaver, a sewer who enchants her work. He picked out a fine piwafwi, remembering a conversation he’d held with Cordelia a while ago. “For a friend. Whom I plan to return to.” Eliel explained.

The smith shrugged and kept on walking, approaching the house in little time at all. Eliel felt a chill run along his spine as he crossed the doors, guards checking the smith to make sure he was who he said he was. Eliel swallowed as he walked in, seeing several drow servants, well-dressed and holding a better complexion than most. He studied each one of them as the two approached the main chamber, a large hall with the matron mother’s throne on one end. Eliel stopped, gathering himself before allowing his friend to pull him in.

The two approached the throne, matron mother looking them over. A younger woman, the eldest daughter he presumed, walked closer and eyed him. She reached for her whip, but the matron stood and slapped the woman’s hand away with a hand that didn’t look like it belonged to a woman of her age. The matron approached and Eliel fell to one knee, Smith bowing his head. The matron grabbed eliel’s chin and pulled it up, looking over him. She didn’t appear to recognize him at first.

Once she saw the gauntlet on his left hand, she stumbled back, one hand on her round belly, the other pointing at him. “you! Eraspeola Usreanac! Usreanac!” she spat at the ground as she spoke the name of his house. “Why is this scoundrel here in my home?” She demanded. The smith looked up. “He’s my personal servant, mother. By Lolth’s orders.” He said solidly. Eliel looked at him in wonder. Mother? Did that mean he was a noble? And he knew that The smith had an older brother, so there were two brothers, and the matron was pregnant. If he remembered correctly, the third was to be sacrificed upon birth.

Eliel sat in silence as the matron considered it, finally giving a smile. “Fitting. Very well. Take him away, Rinad.” The matron said, returning to her stony seat. Surprised by the abrupt meeting, Eliel left with the smith, Rinad. The two entered his room soon after, coming into the large chamber, a smaller chamber off to the side for Eliel. Eliel sat in a stone chair, sighing. “That was easy.” He said tiredly, still worn from the turning back.

Rinad grimaced. “Only because she’s relieved to be nearing birth. I’m sure you’d noticed. She’s to give birth later in the week. We plan to sacrifice it to Lolth, an offer for remaining in Lolth’s good graces.” He shook his head. “pointless, the lot of it.” He looked around his room, spotting his workstation, a corner of the room that held an anvil, various sized hammers, strange looking tools, a vice, and a rack to hold his work.

“Oh! I almost forgot. I’ve made something for you. Been working at it since I came back from meeting you last. It’s a piece of armor that you might actually appreciate.” He chuckled and walked over to the rack, pulling down a piece of armor, a lustrous black breastplate, accented with gold and holding fine chain sleeves. A couple pieces of metal hung from the bottom of it, protecting the waist and a bit below.

“Try it on!” Rinad encouraged. Eliel looked at it distrustfully. He disliked many types of armor, they limited movement and did little but get in the way. Eliel shouted as the smith tossed it to him, expecting it to be extremely heavy. To his surprise, it was fairly light. Frowning, Eliel put it on, allowing Rinad to do some last minute adjusting. It fit perfectly, was extremely light, and seemed to unnaturally flexible. It was a solid piece, but it moved like oiled scale mail. Eliel raised his eyebrows at it.

“It’s perfect!” he exclaimed, moving around in it a little. Rinad seized a hammer and threw it at him, coming in fast with a dagger. Eliel felt the hammer glance off the plate and blocked the dagger with Luriel, twisting his torso easily.

“Perfect indeed.” He smiled, looking at it. The piece wasn’t even bulky. He smiled and bowed to Rinad. “My thanks, dear friend.” He said. The smith laughed and reached into a chest for something. He exclaimed triumph and raised a scroll. “Here we are. An enchantment you may find quite useful, being a swordsman. Cancels out three spells aimed at you per day.” He said, walking over to Eliel and taking up his left hand, inspecting the gauntlet. Without another word from Eliel, Rinad seized it and began reading freom the scroll, tracing a finger over the metal in a strange glyph on the palm.

Eliel watched amusedly as he finished, the scroll becoming nothing more than a blank parchment as the glyph was engraved into the gauntlet’s palm. “And how much would you like for these wonderful gifts?” He asked suspiciously. Rinad wasn’t usually a cheap man.

“Nothing more than a good look at that sword of yours, friend. Quite a piece. I think I could lean a few things from it.” He said, speaking of Luriel. Eliel reached under his cloak and unbuttoned the leather thong holding the sword in place. It slid out, Eliel catching it. He handed it to Rinad with his bare hand, no longer harmed by its holy properties.

The smith marveled at it. “Can I inspect this for say, a week?” He asked, eyes as wide as a human child during the holidays. “Sure you can.” Eliel said, fighting down a laugh at Rinad’s wonderment.

* * * *

Eliel and Rinad stood side-by-side in the dark, circular room. A fire burned near the center, an altar dead middle of the room. The matron held a bundle of cloth in one arm, standing over it as she summoned a yolchol, one of Lolth’s handmaidens.

A demon stepped from the flames, once more taking the form of a woman. Eliel glared at it for a second before returning his gaze to the matron. The priestesses watched as she set the bundle down, unraveling it to reveal a drow baby. Eliel shivered as he watched the matron reach out a hand to take the dagger from her daughter’s hand. Rinad closed his eyes and turned away, expecting Eliel’s next reaction.

The matron raised the dagger high above he child, chanting, eyes half-closed. Eliel screamed, not able to allow the innocent child to be killed for such a reason. He drew Luriel, charging. The dagger came down, almost to the child’s exposed belly, when the holy blade struck, humming in tune with Eliel’s angry cry. Both man and blade were in a fury, neatly beheading the yolchol. It disappeared in a rush of flame, returning to the abyss.

Eliel’s mighty blade struck the eldest’s daughter, gauntlet flying out to receive a fireball. Eliel caught in, using one of the thing’s three enchantments to make it disappear. He panted as the priestesses rushed to assist their wounded matron, too concerned for the well-being of their house to notice Rinad pushing the baby into eliel’s arms.

“Godspeed, Eraspeola.” He said, rushing to the matron’s side to not appear suspicious. Eliel looked down at the bundle in his arms, the black-skinned child having several wispy white hairs. Greenish eyes stared out at him, looking him over, it’s crying stopped. Eliel began running, fuelled by the child’s calmness, cutting down those in his path with Luriel, who approved his actions, finding justice done.

Eliel ran past the spider statues, into the tunnels of the dark lands, holding the drow child in his arms, sheathing his blade, and running a thumb over it’s cheek. It was up to him to take care of the thing, reminding him of silendra and the child they never had.

Eliel smiled and stopped running, wrapping Cordelia’s piwafwi around it and chuckling as it cooed, looking down as he walked on, untroubled by beasts nor goblins. He had a trip ahead of him, perhaps fifty miles roughly to the trapdoor of his home.

Eliel walked on, listening contently to the sound of his son’s cooing.