NationStates Jolt Archive

((http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=493400 OOC thread))
T'rissual
I knew I was barely alive. The Faeries were just as bad as the stories had said. I had hoped that they weren't as the Stories told, as some records from Humans knowing Elves stated. But it wasn't to be. My skin and by eyes hurt, but I flinched at every shadow I saw, for what i could see. My eyes were barely useable by this point. As they brought my body to wherever they were taking me, I cried. Not because of my pain, but because I had hoped. I had hoped for the impossible.

I soon found that they had laid me in my cell. It took me quite a number of days to recover enough to simply eat semisolid foods, but even then, I only drank water and liquidated food. Even my throat hurt from the torture, and I couldn't stand the pain in my throat. Soon, however, I was being serevd finger foods, as they would not trust me with even a plastic spork. I demanded regualr updates on my crew. Some had been broken, but others kept rebelling. A few were killed in riots, others were still around, and some had starved to death in Solitary Confinement. The others I cursed, knowing they were weak.
"T'rissual!" I heard in my head one night. I sat up, looking around my dimly lit cell.
"Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you."
"Who are you?" I asked, familiar with telepathic speech.
"I am Sith Lord Call'eelau. My apprentice tells me that you, one of their most respected leaders, has been captured. I see this is true."
"You have a Drow apprentice? Give her my blessings as a High Priestess."
"I will tell him that."
I figured he felt my annoyance at the confusion. I had given my blessings of Lloth to a Male!
"They have broken your spirit, but that is not the way it should be. Look inward and find the Force. You will find the spirit within you, and you will not lose the being that is T'rissual Melith."
"Why are you helping me?"
"Becuase my apprentice is both a Drow and a Sith's Apprentice, and he would end up killing me if I didn't."
I felt his presence leave as the Faery ship ordered him to vacate the immediate area. I sat on my bed and meditated for a while. I had no idea what the Force was, but I knew I had to find it. I discovered an endless energy force within me and around me. When my meal was delivered, I had found it. The gaurd was very surprised to find that my lights blew as soon as he walked in. He was very much caught by surprised when I attacked him. The food fell to the floor and the tray banged on the ground. I grabbed him and spun around to find several weapons pointed at me. In two motions I broke the gaurd's arms and then used my leg to kick away his weapons. I held my arms under his armpits and pressed on his ribs, enough to tell him that it was a very bad idea to make any sudden movements. I felt merciful.
"Put your weapons away and BACK from us. I want no one on my left, right, or behind me. If I die, I can garuntee he will, too."
The gaurds were still unnerved at my newfound energy and spirit and hesitated. Several of them lowered their weapons, not wanting to risk the life of their companion or the wrath of their superiors. I laughed silently, knowing they were weak. Any Drow weak enough to get captured like that deserved to die. I walked towards them and they backed away.
"Where's the infirmary?" I demanded. One of them pointed me in teh right direction. None of them looked away. I walked slowly to where the infirmary was, with gaurds at my front the whole way. The medics saw what was going on and stayed back. I dragged my hostage into the infirmary and placed him on an operating table.
"He's got two broken arms and possible internal damage, I ordered the Medics, "Normally I would have killed him anyways. But I'm feeling generous."
The medics eagerly nodded and went to attend the patient. I stepped behind the table, knowing the soldiers wouldn't risk hitting one of their own. I spotted one of teh only sharp objects in teh room and picked it up, to the dismay of the medics.
"Now I'm willing to talk," I announced, "And if that doesn't happen, first the patient dies, and then the Medic to squeal the most dies next, followed by the quietest. Do I make myself clear?"

Shock Prime, Drow-Held Space
Hatchavin

Alyae had done well. We had over a million Drow Elves pledged allegiance, including at least one female noble from each House. Everything was arranged. The Space Docks filled with seperatists, and dozens of shuttles flew from the planet as more and more seperatists left the planet. Soon I found myself commanding both military and civilian ships filled with resources and personell. We had enough air, food, and water to last us for four years, with some ships filled completely with food, air, and water. We were prepared and we were ready to find a planet to call home. I had to hurry, though, as the other fleets would be onto me in a few minutes. I ordered on an open channel for all ships to leave the system ASAP.

But we encountered a delay, as an Empyrian fleet warped into our system. I knew I couldn't leave the remaining Drow there on the planet with the minor fleets. Over a billion Drow lived on that planet! But yet I couldn't fight them, not while I was responsible for a million plus lives. So I did the only thing that marked us as peaceful: I hailed them.
"This is Patron Admiral Hatchavin Melith. You are in Drow Space and advised to leave immediately, or enter with your weapons cold."
I looked at the scans. Their shields were up, so the scans were sketchy, but I looked at the lifeforms aboard. Mostly Elvin, a few humans, but then I looked at the unsure scans. They told me that there was a possibility of Drow Elves aboard. I now readied for anything.

Some Time Ago. ‘Earth’

Olath'mirshann frowned a little into her glass as she watched the figures with her recount the battle. One looked human, the other, unmistakably a faerie, though taller than they tended to be. The coffee steamed merrily from the spider-pattern pewter and glass-drinking vessel. It was a rare blend, one of the little luxuries of home that she couldn’t live without.

The human was known as ‘Zapp’ but was merely a sub-entity, an avatar of the vast warship known as Erisavenus, the founder of her order, though she wouldn’t have chosen to call the organisation that. “You’ll retrieve the coffin?” she asked, as though stating the obvious.

“Yes, quite,” the blonde haired human said, “If we’re lucky, we’ll find something in there that we can revive and send to you.”

Olath'mirshann was currently posing as what one might call a court physician. Both a cleric (which she certainly was) of the spider goddess (which she certainly wasn’t) and someone highly interested in healing – well, it wasn’t exactly unknown. Per se. Entirely.

Her mission was both to observe, on behalf of the warship and its associates, the doings of the drow, and to ensure that her current patron, who seemed to be, to her knowledge, doing something seditious. That didn’t bode well for Olath'mirshann, of course, should Alyae fail. But then, Olath had means of killing herself. Ranging from micro-missiles carefully placed in her skull to poison glands (a slight expansion on the range of the normal variant) ready to kill her by a less spectacular manner.

“Ready to receive my mind-state?” she added. She was religious, and had taken some convincing for that before coming here, but eventually had decided to relent, provided any such resurrection was accompanied by the appropriate rituals. Besides, she had little doubt that the unnameable (here, at least) deity she served in secret could see to it that souls were apportioned correctly in such instances. She’d not be very praise worthy if she couldn’t.

“Certainly,” the ‘human’ nodded. Olath reached into the box she had sitting open on the table before her, a construction of spider-web carved wood over sides an inch thick and composed of the most durable living metal. She took another spider, this one a metal construct, and dropped it into her white hair. This was more rigmarole than was usually necessary, but she’d been careful to minimise the implants she carried inside her; it wouldn’t do for pointed questions to be asked if she went through a metal detector, would it?

After a short time of the irritating little robot crawling about and mussing up her hair, she dropped it back into the box and rolled up her bag of coffee beans, tossing it in, letting the silver spider scuttle out of the way preternaturally.

“Well, I suppose I’d better get ready, ready for another day of frustrations,” she said.

Anárion and ‘Zapp’ nodded. They’d been through this many times before. Olath’mirshann reached out, and waved a hand over the soligram projector on the table, resulting in both figures disappearing. The projector, too, was camouflaged to look ‘drow’ with a spider curling its legs around an exaggerated, round diamond. It was a masterwork, containing a battery of quantum-entangle units, communicating with a devoted satellite sitting a hundred parsecs away.

She put the projector into the box, and closed it, to the soft click of locks working. On the divided-lid that split into two hinged sections, an evergreen leaf symbol curled around to form a tiny wreath on the lid, an incongruous symbol, but one that her servants – her slaves, rather – had been told came from her homeland. It was surprisingly accurate, that.

The elf smiled a little, and put the box back where it customarily rested, on the ‘dresser’ of her chamber, in plain view of all. She took a sword from the untidy surface too, enchanted blade resting in an enchanted scabbard, and drew it, practicing briefly with the hand-and-a-half sword, before putting it back in the scabbard, crafted for a longer weapon. She did so daily, for she never drew the sword in public, for to do so would have to be in anger, and would dispel certain illusions about her.

Dressing in a black leather robe with platinum threads, she fastened it, and snapped the sword onto her waist from the belt. Next, a more prominent weapon, a twisted thing she hated, again crafted in the form of a spider, a sharp thing of multiple blades, intended for the ritual murder of sacrificial victims. It was profane, dark and evil, it made her feel weakened and dwindled to touch it, though fortunately, on her belt, it was more of a brooding, evil presence.

There was another blade, but to hold that one brought a feeling of warmth to her. A gift from Erisavenus, it was slender and tapering, with a wide guard that contained hundreds of little jewel-like studs. Some were missing, used by the pervious owner. Taking it from where she’d used it to grind up coffee beans, she brushed it off with the back of her hand, coffee dust barely showing on her dark skin, then blew what was left from the shining curve, sheathing it.

Last of all in her elaborate disguise-garb (aside from the elaborate golden icon of the spider goddess, which she draped around her neck) was a twisting, hissing thing called a Scourge of Fangs; A whip that was animate, five tails that took the form of hissing snakes. Unlike the dagger, this was more carefully crafted, without the evil aura. It was a facsimile of the clerical badge of office, rather than the real deal, as with the dagger.

She turned, and opened the soundproofed doors of her chamber, and left to commence what she anticipated to be an unusually interesting day.