literature

Demons Strike Menzoberranzan

Deviation Actions

Maeglin-Amandil's avatar
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Literature Text

Blood fell from the drow's corpse spilling over the twisted talons that had pierced his chest cavity. A cruel smile crossed the half-demon's face as he tugged his clawed hand from the warrior and licked clean the blood. He held the coppery taste in his mouth, feeling his pulse increase as the blood-lust grew inside him.
Looking around the ruins he searched for lingering drow. His master had released him and his brothers from the hells a mere number of hours ago. Since, they had rushed across the dark elven settlement, murder in their wake. Apparently these dark elven creatures were among the pinnacle of mortal race, powerful and deadly. They stood no chance against the might of the demons. They fought gallantly , yet still they fell.
Menzoberranzan was now rubble, only the compounds of the first five houses remained, heavily warded, so much so that even the demons could not pass them so easily. Lolth's clergy were invoking the powerful magics of their grim goddess, whom still seemed to pour her favour into the city. With these invocations the drow were banishing some of their enemies, hurling them flaming into the hells.
The half-demon leapt over the partially collapsed wall and down into what looked to be the remains of a entry chamber. He could hear a movement behind him, causing his spiked ears to prick up. Wheeling around, he caught sight of a tiny girl, no older than seven. Her skin was as all drow, dark as stone, but something made her look more intriguing than the others he had slaughtered. She looked at him, scarlet eyes shimmering with tears.
It was a rare sight to see a weeping drow. The Demon smirked to himself. Young drow were for the most part untrained in the deadly arts of their race. He could almost feel the fresh blood in her veins. In a swift action he brought his fist to her face, knocking her to the floor. His claw raked across her face. She fell, completely broken, blood pooling around her discarded body.
Dakka. The voice whispered in his mind. He ignored it, finding it far more interesting to rip the body of the drow girl further, already it was barely recognisable. Dakka your son of a whore. Letting a great sigh escape his chest, the half-demon closed his eyes and allowed his consciousness to follow the link his master had made. DAKKA!
Xulnma, I am here.
It took you long enough you pathetic rothe!
What is your command oh master?
Had the elderly mage actually been within his presence, he would have never dared be so defiant for the wizard had very little patience for anyone, especially his servants. Though he could get away with such behaviour when the means to destroy him were not within his immediate reach.
The Mizzrym compound has been breached, I want you to gather the battalion around the remains of the sixth house, Fey-Branche, and lead them on an assault against House Faen-Tlabbar. Move now, the Baenre's are plotting faster than we.
With the fall of the fifth house, they were one step closer to bringing down the city upon itself. The sixth house had fallen within the last hour and now the forces still plundering there must move on the the fourth house. It would be a hard task to gathered them and then lead them west across the city.
Of course my lord.
He raced of immediately. His raid on the Braeryn had given him a little fun, but there was of course more fun to be had where the drow gathered. Dakka raced south, House Fey Branche soon to be found.

Gromph Baerne sat silently in the Baenre Cathedral, watching his dear sister pace back and forth across the floor. He found his attention slipping to the rings upon his fingers, reciting in his head the words that would summon forth the powers of the tiny metal bands. Realising his distraction he looked back to his sister, Quenthel, whom was fretting constantly.
The demons had not arrived at their gates just yet, but there would be a wave at any moment. Their sensors told them House Mizzrym had fallen meaning Faen Tlabbar would be next. Gromph hated feeling so useless, even with all the magic in the world he was useless against hordes of demonic monsters.
Muttering a word, he summoned to his side a small scroll which he unfurled. This item was something that took a great deal of magic to merely look at for it would reveal to him the location of everything in the city, even the people. He could see his agent working his way across the Clawrift on his way to the burial site.
Gromph knew that the carelessness of Lolth's faithful would lead the city into the ground and so he had buried a powerful magical artefact that would allow him to be the salvation of the city. However, its power was harmful to those near it so he had been forced to place it away from the city proper.
When his agent returned, he would activate it and the city would be saved.
A sudden crack brought his attention to the ceiling. The great, shifting image of Lolth was split down the centre, small pieces of rubble hitting the floor around him. Standing, he caught his sister drawing her snake whip, looking up as well. There was a roar from above and a clawed hand broke through the roof of the great, sacred hall.
Demons, thousands of them spilled down through the air, landing on the small groups of priestesses, blood splattering across the walls. Fire began to race across the walls and screams came from all directions. Gromph unleashed spell after spell, lightning, thunder and ice assailed the descending demons but there were too many.
House Baenre had fallen.
This is my entry for the :iconlolth-scourge: Cress d'Wiles project for objective one.

Personally I think this is utterly messy! Dammit!
© 2009 - 2024 Maeglin-Amandil
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Zireael07's avatar
I like any fic connected with the drow... and this is good.