Ch. 1, pt. 2: Undermountain

BINNE

It was a surprisingly short trip thanks to the dryad's directions. Past the color-bridge and down the endless hallways we went until finally, at last, I caught sight of the most wonderful thing I might've ever seen – the well to the surface. Talos' titties was it relieving. After Deekin banished his pet, we began the long and slow trip back to the surface, to the well-room of the Yawning Portal, and I started muttering quick prayers to all the deities I could think of that I might've angered for cursing so long and often while I was imprisoned. It was a long, long way to the top, so it's a good thing it was a lengthy list.

 The well-room was as unspectacular as I remembered it, but it was peppered now with the odd drow and surfacer corpse, which was new in the way of decoration. Durnan was pacing about the area in a frustrated way, at least I think it was Durnan because I didn't have much interaction with the man from before. At the other end of the room, standing next to an abundance of assorted gear and scrolls stood a beautiful blonde whom I knew at a glance to be a priestess of Sune Firehair – not because I was excellent at determining these things, but because of the huge symbol that graced the top of her cleavage. Besides, all priests of Sune are attractive; it's one of the stipulations of their insipid, narcissistic religion. I was scowling at her without really knowing why. Sunites had always irritated me, probably because they didn't seem to like me. I'd learned to stick to Ilmateri and Tymorans thanks to the likes of them; one Sunite had refused me service even though I'd taken an obvious beating. The Ilmateri across the street didn't hesitate.

 In addition there were two other adventurers in the room that I thought I recognized, maybe – a red-headed woman in leather armor and a burly half-orc with a nasty double-bladed axe – but I didn't pay them much mind.

 What I did pay mind to, all in all, was the goblin with a child's broom that began squealing and pointing at Solaufein, jumping up and down. The situation got even weirder when the goblin ran behind the warrior and grabbed his boot and cloak and cowered from the approaching Innkeeper. "Grovel stay! Grovel stay! Yes! No? Maybe?" 

 "Uh," was all I could say. 

 "Does this belong to you?" Durnan huffed with a beard. He barely gave me a glance, the bastard. 

 "Grovel says he says Grovel can stay if Grovel clean or get-off-my-leg! Gro-Grovel not go back, yes? Grovel work hard!" The Goblin was hard to understand through his accent, but to his credit he seemed to sincerely embody his namesake. I couldn't help it - but I had to somehow suppress the laugh when I caught the drow's glare.

 "Do you just collect kobolds and goblins?" I wondered.

 "Nau!" Solaufein insisted firmly, despite evidence to the contrary. He almost sounded petulant. He tried to gently wriggle his person away from Grovel, almost like he was trying to be polite about it. It was hard not to laugh at him for being strangely adorable. "Well, I did send him up here," he amended carefully. "But I do not own him."

 Deekin's long nose wrinkled. "Deekin think goblins smelly and noisy," he determined, "and this one be no good in a fight. As bait, maybe."

 "On that we agree, master bard," I asserted. 

 Solaufein swung his eyes up and down in exasperation. "He is harmless and was waiting by the well. All the other goblins of his tribe are dead."

 "Grovel clean good, nice, yes, no, maybe?" the goblin asserted, literally clinging to Solaufein's leg like I had been earlier. The comparison in my head made me frown and twitch my tail. I felt suddenly very sorry for the poor creature. I accidentally swatted Deekin with my tail in morbid thought about this lonely little creature, and the kobold yelped in fright.

 "Boss!" Deekin complained. "Goat-lady be beating me with her tail. Can you makes her stop?"

 "So long as she is not strangling you with it, I do not care what she does with her tail," Solaufein told him bluntly. I couldn't suppress the laugh then. "Stand elsewhere if you wish. I am not in charge of her."

 Durnan's throat cleared and he pointed at the goblin. The drow warrior started trying to nudge the goblin away from him, and then tried literally shaking the goblin off his leg, looking only mildly annoyed the entire time.

 "Solaufein the Goblin-Whisperer," I named him, and he gave me the nastiest glare. It tickled me down to the tips of my horns. 

 "Alright," Durnan bit out after a few seconds of consideration while we bickered and Solaufein tried to shake the goblin. "He can stay, so long as he doesn't make trouble. We can use every willingly helping hand, in this wild time."

 I'd never hear a goblin cheer in joy before. It was a little unsettling and my tail moved before my brain did as it whipped around and batted the goblin on the head gently away from Solaufein. Grovel whirled his arms back, fell to the ground startled and went to pick up the broom, frantically sweeping around the dead bodies while muttering to himself. We all watched him do it for a few seconds before remembering why we were all standing there. "I also found this a'temra here in the possession of the ogres," the Solaufein summarized and gestured at me with a flippant hand. "Do you recognize her?"

 "I don't know what an ah-tem-rah is, but it doesn't sound like a compliment," I stated. "And no, I wasn't in their possession. I was unlawfully enslaved. There's a difference!"

 "My apologies," Solaufein murmured, with no small amount of amusement.

 My tail twitched. Out of the corner of my eye, Grovel was trying to push one of the drow bodies over into the pit around the well. It was very distracting. "Well, if you need to restock or need healing, Thesta can help you," Durnan grunted and he gestured at the Sunite in the corner. "To be honest, I assumed you were dead, and that's what I told the wizards when they came knocking. I'll send a message to them by day that you're safe. Help yourself to the food upstairs, and anything else you need."

 I nodded, doubting Durnan even remembered my name but still appreciative of his generosity, and then focused a glare on White Thesta. I would have rather died than gotten help from one such as them. Solaufein spoke, saving me the trouble of cursing more of the gods and damning my fate further. "We will return in a few hours. I came to report that Halaster is being held by the dhaerow in the lower levels. There is an entrance to the Underdark that must be closed. I require more potions, and then I will go back down and find him."

 That surprised me. "You want to go back down there?"

 He looked at me as if he knew me, and then his wine dark eyes pierced right through me. It was the oddest thing anyone had even done to me. And then he said the oddest thing I'd ever heard anyone say: "Of course I do. And I must. Why, do you not?"

 I started laughing harder than before. I was about to tell him where he could stick his crazy ideas, but then it hit me for an amazing moment that I actually missed the temperature in the dungeon. I missed the warmth. It was something small in me that admitted that I actually wanted to go back and find my way to the end of the maze, if only for a chance to get a crack at Halaster's corpse and kick it in the dangly bits. A part of me wanted the thrill of that death; Auril's Call, my father called it, when the icy winds that drew the ice trolls down into his native Black Raven valley howled, summoning the warriors of the tribe to answer. Tempus' war horn was the way my mother described it - this clarion call that drove her to her first adventure on through her last. I felt it in my bones, but it was more like fire than ice. It was a desire I'd felt once that I'd thought long gone - the call of battle. Something thrummed in my veins, a power that seemed to emanate up from Undermountain. The warmth came from my feet. I'd technically left the dungeon, but it was clear in that second that I met the drow's eyes that Undermountain hadn't left me quite yet.

 So I stopped laughing and looked down at the bottom of the well thoughtfully. "Well, I wouldn't mind going back and killing more ogres," I admitted quietly. "That part was fun. And I wouldn't mind finding Halaster and kicking his corpse in the arse."

 I looked back at my savior and he smirked. Damned intelligent drow. "I heed a similar call." Had he read my mind? The rest of his words indicated he hadn't, but he was remarkably intuitive: "Whatever sickness is now at the heart of Undermountain, Eilistraee desires it purged. She sent me a dream . . . After contemplating it, I felt a call to action, and would rather that the people of Waterdeep remember that at least one of my kin aided them against this incursion. This is not my people at their best."

 It was my turn to look at him like he was very, very stupid. "Are you telling me you came here following a dream?"

 "Yeah, Deekin be asking him the same question," the kobold piped up, drawing my eye down to his level. "Deekin thinks elves and humans be silly sometimes, but Boss seem to know what he's doing. Deekin give him that. He be hero material, and good protagonist for Deekin's next book. Deekin think people without big dreams likes to be readings about people with them."

 I grunted and raised my eyebrows. "You're a gentleman, author, and dragon tamer, master bard. Color me surprised. Your boss is either mad, or god-touched. And either one is a very dangerous thing to be. I tend to steer clear of prophecies and gods and such. They seem to want to have nothing to do with me, which is just as well, as I want nothing to do with them." I turned to Durnan who had stewing in contemplative silence after hearing that Halaster was captured. "I don't like that look about your face, Durnan. It's entirely too thoughtful, and I find that offensive."

 The burly human Innkeeper huffed at me. "No magic I know of could keep the Blackcloak down in his own lair," he voiced quietly. His eyes reached Solaufein's. "Halaster is Undermountain. It . . . You will understand the further into the dungeon you get." I understood a little of the madness at the edge of his eyes. There was a bit of fear in Durnan, I could smell it beneath the sweat, musk, and stench of kobold. Time was runny in Undermountain, and without a sense of time passing, your sense of self became all mucky. We define ourselves by how we spend our time after all - and what happens when time becomes meaningless? I'd forgotten that he'd spent more time in there than I had, in his life. "It is a madhouse you're descending into. A deranged prison. And its Warden is missing. So if your goddess truly sent you, then you might be the only one who can get there. Can you disguise yourself as one of their scouts or patrols, and infiltrate them?"

 Solaufein looked at me, and then at Deekin. "That was my intent. We will need invisibility scrolls and potions if something goes wrong. I already have a piwafwi from one of their scouts."

 I didn't know what a piwafwi was, but it sounded important - and it sounded like the drow had a plan. Half of me railed and shivered at the thought of going back to Undermountain, in all the wrong ways. I longed to wreak havoc, to tear, to destroy. To avenge. The demon in me clawed at the surface - which reminded me . . . "Oi Durnan, I don't suppose yer wife has a nail file of some kind? Or even a whetstone. Sharp knife? Anything? I-I can't wear boots like this." I pointed at my toes in emphasis.

 The kobold laughed at my predicament. Laughed. Oh, I was gonna get him. Maybe I'd push him into Ol' Blue and see how hard he laughed while being electrocuted. "What're you laughing about, you mangy lizard? You're not even wearing bloody pants!" I criticized.

 "She has a point, Deekin," Solaufein appeased, but then turned to me. "You are also not wearing pants."

 I guffawed. My chainmail and tunic went down to my knees, at least. Also, my tail made it rather . . . Complicated. "I was a captive! What's his excuse?"

 The little bard was aloof. "Deekin not wear pants because they not be making any in Deekin's size with big enough hole in backside for Deekin's tail," the kobold defended reasonably and adjusted his pack on his shoulder. "And also because they be ruining Deekin's aesthetic."

 "I'll find something for you, lass," Durnan interjected diplomatically, and rose from his seat. "Though I doubt I have pants you won't tear in the rear."

 I growled as the Innkeeper walked off while the kobold laughed some more. "Sorry," Deekin finally announced after a moment. "But Deekin like not being on receiving end of jokes about pants for once."

 "If anyone makes another comment about my tail or nudity again, I'll help Grovel push them down the well," I threatened.

 The kobold and the drow exchanged a look that I didn't like. Solaufein smiled at me. "I preferred the nudity." He stalked off to bargain with White Thesta, the Sunite, while I just stood there somewhat dumbfounded by him.

 I didn't really want to go back up to the Yawning Portal, and I wasn't sure about any of the new people inhabiting the Inn since Waterdeep had been shut down. I knew that before I had gone in, Durnan was an alright sort - his wife was a mite tetchy and threw me out on account of me horns initially, but he convinced her to look past that. Paladins. Ugh. I accidentally on purpose thwapped Deekin a few times with my tail until he meandered his way over to his boss, and then back upstairs presumably to get a meal. If they accepted a kobold bard, I felt I must have been in special company . . . But the Sunite was guarding the stairs up, and I didn't want to be near her.

 Frustrated by my dilemma, which shouldn't have even been a dilemma, I sat down on the makeshift bench near the Well's control mechanism where Durnan had been and studied my hands. I suddenly didn't know what to do with myself now that I was not in hostile company, and in complete possession of my faculties I had some entertainment in the form of Grovel as he tried to shove bodies into the well to 'clean.' No one appeared to be stopping him, so I eventually started pushing them down with the goblin, taking a little satisfaction in watching them fall and hearing the crack at the bottom. 

 Solaufein eventually made his way back over to me. "What are you doing, and . . . Why are you doing it?" His brows knitted. His words registered as sarcasm, but his tone suggested he was genuinely perplexed.

 "Throwin' bodies down the well with Grovel. I'm not going near that priestess," I blurted, "and I don't know what else to do. Whose else is going to help him? I'd rather be down there killing things, honestly. When are we going back?" I felt jittery, like the battle-rage hadn't worn off yet. I felt restless.

 He stared at me. Solaufein was not an ordinary drow, this much I had figured. He was a warrior of some skill, but so were many drow. Not too many were nice, like him. Perhaps what struck me so odd about his was his sheer, blithe sincerity in all his manner. It was as refreshing as it was odd. I supposed I fell somewhere down the middle of most people - I felt bad about not helping people sometimes, or sorry for them when they were going through rough times, but I didn't often go out of my way for strangers. He'd gone comparatively far indeed out of his way to help me. I didn't act on my dreams. I was too interested in my own survival; and yet . . . 

 There was the other side. My mother was a fierce disciplinarian with a paranoid disposition who taught me never to cower from a challenge. I had no idea who my birth father was. My real father is an ex-Uthgardt barbarian married to my mother who taught me everything I needed to know about life. The other father, the one that must've raped my mother, had never been of interest to me until my powers manifested. A shadow has had more influence on my life than the real person. I'd run away from my father and mother, after Brega . . . Ah, Brega.

 I touched the stone pendant at my neck and stared down the well, where Grovel and I had been tossing the bodies of dead, scavenged enemies. I wasn't really good or nice. Those were arbitrary words anyway, as fleeting as the wind carrying a bird. I'd escaped captivity but wasn't free - I was a leashed animal, content in my rein until it choked me. Undermountain had stirred the demon in my blood. I felt the call of battle after getting revenge on the ogres just as surely as my real father had in the howling winds of the north. It was something I hadn't felt in years, not since the plague hit. The Wailing Death had not stricken me, but my demon had seemed to lose its voice after it left my city.

 I didn't like Solaufein's eyes on me anymore - he was too perceptive for his own good. I didn't know what he was perceiving about me, but I could feel his eyes deducing me whenever he looked my way and I didn't like it at all. He was having the strange effect of causing me to dice myself into mental pieces.

 "I have never met another Eilistraee follower," he suddenly confessed in a weary voice. I looked at him, away from the well, and felt the pull of the dungeon on my soul a little diminished with my attention astray. "I know you are sick of me speaking about religion—"

 "It's like once every bloody mark with you! Nigh, clockwork!" I growled, putting more irritation into my voice than I sincerely felt just to see if it got under his skin.

 It didn't. He was completely unaffected by all my tactics. "I apologize if I have offended you. I will not push the subject." 

 "No, just spit it out. Don't give me that look." Plus I was still starved for conversation after my enslavement. I didn't like religious talk, but he wasn't trying to convert me - just sharing his experience, and I found that valuable. My bluster was more instinctive than purposeful.

 He began to speak low, barely above a whisper, and the intensity of his tone arrested my attention. "All of my life, and I have been alone in my faith, surrounded by the Spider Queen's fanatics. For most of my life, I was one of them, though I loathed every second of my existence. Save for the last ten years, I knew nothing but the city of Ust'Natha as the weapon master of House Despana, and head of the Male Fighters' Society. I trained the warriors of our city. I led our battles and raids. We have been locked in an unceasing war against Tethyr since the time of the Spider Queen's rise. It is all my people know. For hundreds of years I killed as the right arm of the Handmaidens, and I did not ever believe I could endure an existence free of it; I was certain I would die at any moment, almost every day. I assume you know only a little of my people. To survive in the Underdark, you must walk hand in hand with your own death. My home is a . . . Terrible and beautiful place. I am frightened to return, for I might meet the man I once was." 

 Memories swam of piling the bodies of my neighbors with my father, bodies of our workers, our friends, our soldiers, our people and lighting them on fire. I was a reckless sod my whole life until that day. Everything changed. I remember looking at my father to my side and recognizing my own heart beating in his chest. I'd never before felt such love from another being, but my father and I were fairly certain that the death would eventually claim us all at that point, so we didn't mind getting all teary on each other on account of it. Smoke got in our eyes, was the excuse that Drak and Binne had both sniffled out that day over the swill at the Sunken Flagon.

 I felt, when Solaufein spoke, that a part of him spoke of that same feeling. There was accent to his words that seemed stronger now when he spoke of his homeland. As though the memories had become nearer. I had no idea why he was telling me this at all - we didn't know each other very well, having only met in the last few hours really. I admit there was a surprisingly easy and immediate connection between us after he had saved my life, and we'd had a terribly fun time flirting and killing things together. However, he certainly held my eyes with unwavering calm. When he did not speak again for a moment, I asked, "How did you ever get out?"

 He smiled very briefly, but then the smile fell. Clearly not a pleasant memory for him, judging by his reaction. "I was saved. Spared, perhaps is a better word. A group of surfacers disguised as drow infiltrated my city, and I escaped in their company before it was largely destroyed by a silver dragon."

 My eyebrows crawled up my forehead and my tail curled up in curiosity. "I sense a mighty tale there."

 "For another day, maybe never; I fear if I utter it aloud Deekin will write it into a book," he grimaced. "The condensed version of the tale is that I had a dream, and then I saw an opportunity. Similar to what is happening to me now. You may not take much stock in dreams and I can understand why. You have surely wondered where the gods were when you were suffering most. I know you must have because it is what I have done."

 I snorted. "Oh, gods are just an excuse for morality. They are ephemeral, like words, and disappear as easily. They crave mortality even as they condemn it, and act like spoiled children when they are not appeased." I had some strong feelings about the divine, to understate it. "That being said, Tymora seems like an alright sort." Did that make me a Tymoran, if she was the only god I'd ever given any consideration? A goddess of probability - mathematical principle - seemed like the only thing you could really trust in a world that made no sense. Change, randomness - this was the only order of things. My mother may have been a cleric, and I respected Tempus as her deity - I just didn't worship him. And why did it always have to be about religion with this bugger? So I told him, "I believe in the gods as I believe in everything, but I don't worship them. Although I know little of your goddess. I thought she was the goddess of song and dance. She can't be too awful if she sent you my way, I suppose."

 "There are some dances made to honor her, I have heard," Solaufein spoke after a moment's consideration. "From what I have read about her worshipers, they sing and dance often in her praise. I have never done so, myself. She is also a goddess of the moon, the patron of drow that turn away from . . . She whom I will not name in the same breath. Eilistraee is also considered the goddess of swordplay. In ancient Tethyr she was once honored as a god of death and righteous retribution. Mortals call her Selûne, elves Sehanine, but no matter the incarnation or depiction her light is the same."

 "That certainly makes sense," I complimented. "Seems like you were naturally drawn to her faith."

 He nodded and seemed pleased at my understanding. "It feels like a natural inclination, to me. But as I said, I have never met any others. I knew her only as a hope of something better in my nature before I ever learned she had a name, or even a face. I was certain that once I fled Ust'Natha that the Handmaidens would find and drag me to the Orth'Orbbcress eventually." Drow language was lost on me, but contextually I understood that he was still talking about Lolth. A thoroughly nasty deity that we both wanted nothing to do with. "It took me twenty years after that to gain the strength to utter my goddess' name aloud, and it was the moment before I left it behind forever. I saw a way out, and she led me to it. It may sound mad, and I do not apologize for it. I am who I am, and if she has truly called me here to Waterdeep, than that means she must have need of my skill." He patted the bastard sword at his side. "My skill is the only thing in my life I have ever truly been able to rely upon. Battle is all I have known; it is my only trade and art."

 I'd known plenty of battle, but I expected that my experiences would pale next to this lonely outcast's. My parents had always loved me. I knew of other planars out there born to strange circumstance in all manner of world or dimension - planeswalkers, they call them. Aasimar, tieflings. I was half something or other and lucky enough to be born into the least likeliest circumstance - to a pair of adventurers looking to settle down for good on a ranch. The kind of people who never once looked at me as though I was different than them because they took whatever the world gave to them, no matter how troubling, and gave it back with a shine. I tried to do the same in my own way, but rarely succeeded. Something in me was unavoidably destructive by nature, and I didn't think it was an accident that I'd always been drawn to battle. Something about Solaufein seemed incredibly sad for a moment while he spoke, and he reminded me of me. 

 I did my best to disguise my concern with humor. "Well, if she only sent you here to die, I expect you would've by now. As it stands, now we're being invaded by drow, and you're the only one who can successfully infiltrate them. Is Eilistraee also the goddess of irony? This certainly has the stench of fate about it."

 I had noticed Solaufein did this funny squinty thing when he was amused, as if he were trying to hold back a laugh - or had trouble believing what he'd just sniffed and was trying to decide if it was horse shit. "What is the stench of fate?"

 I sniffed about him, and he didn't lean away like he did last time I'd accidentally invaded his personal space. Cambion noses were a little more sensitive than an elf's, but I suppose the tradeoff was that they had better sight and hearing than me (though he was unfairly tall for an elf, as I stood at eighteen hands and his eyes hit my nose). I could hardly smell him under the scent of the blood of his enemies, however. It was a combination of ogre blood and something deep and dark, like grave soil, as well as something light and green like mint. "Pah! I don't know. Everything stinks of unwashed kobold now," I scoffed. 

 I received a snort in response. "It is better than the smell of gol I will not get out of my cloak, thanks be to Grovel," he muttered and made for the stairs. I grinned and followed him up when he mentioned food, as I didn't appear keen. I didn't even mind that I had to walk past the Sunite, although her eyes lingered on me and it grated against me nerves. I didn't even glance at her, though. Proud of myself for that one.

 Mhaere, Durnan's holier-than-thou wife, made my skin itch when she glared at me for a little while before seemingly getting over it when her husband distracted her. She definitely didn't like that she had to serve me food, but I felt my tail give away my happiness with its swish before my smirk confirmed it. It was only a stew, and rather bland, but it was positively heavenly. I felt no more itchiness from the Tyrran the entire night.

 I lingered near Deekin or the drow more out of a sense of comfort, I supposed; I felt no kin to anyone in that room. The rest of the adventurers all had suspicious eyes. Durnan eventually returned with a small file and pair of boots courtesy of his wife, who had started avoiding me when she noticed I felt uncomfortable in her aura, according to the Innkeeper. Nice enough of her, I suppose. Still hated paladins, but nice of her. Her feet were too small, though, so I ended up having to take a pair of his instead.

 I had perched next to the kobold bard, despite not liking the smell or sound of him when he clearly hadn't bathed in several weeks. He had his charming moments, but his singing might literally kill me one day, I was certain. The scent wasn't so bad in hindsight, but it was clear that it'd been a while since anyone in that room had bathed. Still heaven compared to Undermountain's residents. Deekin was terribly chatty, I discovered, which suited me fine. I hadn't spoken to anyone in a month besides an ogre mage who mistook himself for a courtier. I'd take what I can get.

 Deekin had taken out a large leather-bound book and began writing in it as we spoke. I turned my attention to the darty-eyes-adventurers all around. No one approached us save one - a lovely crimson-haired bard woman who introduced herself as Sharwyn and offered her hand, and a curtsy when I took it. "Now aren't you a fancy lady," I complimented. She'd struck me as familiar, but perhaps that was true of all bards. I inclined my head and let my hand fall forward, rather than get up and curtsy. I was lazy, it's not a crime. "That's a proper greeting, that is. I be Binne. That be Deekin." I jabbed a thumb at the lizard.

 "We're previously acquainted," she nodded daintily at the reptilian bard and gave me a disarming smile.

 "Yeah. Boss finds bard lady in Undermountain dead 'til Deekin whack her with a rod," Deekin summarized for my benefit. "She not get very far in dungeon, though," he added slyly. 

 Sharwyn winced. "That's . . . Not really necessary to mention, is it? Although, yes, it is true. It stings my pride to admit. I'd rather not dwell on my most recent untimely death, thank you, Deekin."

 "I got enslaved by ogres," I bluntly told her. "Undermountain's a shithole. Don't feel bad about it."

 "So our mutual savior mentioned." Sharwyn seated herself across from us on the table. A waft of something like plums hit my nose pleasantly, and I was struck with jealousy that she'd clearly been afforded a bath recently. I had a one-track mind. Deekin was at my side, but turned his attention to a book he had in his possession that he had been scrawling incomprehensible notes in. I wondered what on earth could've had his attention so, but it mattered not. I stared at the bard, trying to figure out what it is she wanted. "I actually think we may have met more than once," she announced, startling me. "In Neverwinter, yes?"

 I perked up instantly. "Neverwinter?! I'm from there!" I crowed happily. "Oh, how's it been? I've been gone away too long. Is it winter there yet? Please tell me it is. Oh! I miss the snow!"

 "No snow, but there's a lot less plague than there was before," she answered with a sarcastic wave of her hand, "but other than that, 'tis going along as it always has been. The rebuilding is largely complete, except for the Peninsula. I have been away from some time myself. I remember you, actually, but it has been a while. It helps that you stand out," she added candidly. "You are Binne Ofgren - I think we first met outside of Blacklake. You were also in the volunteer corps, working for Gend in Port Llast and the Well, as I and my friends did. We rarely spoke, though, to my regret, and must have only exchanged a handful of words here and there. I confess I was a little self-absorbed back then and overlooked you. Strange, how many of us who survived the Wailing Death and the Shadow War should find ourselves here."

 I searched my memory and tapped my chin. "Let's see," I murmured as I rifled through the haze of loneliness and horniness and hungry to try and remember fuckall about a war I'd specifically tried to drown the memories of in ale. "My father had volunteered to clean out the plague-mad that had taken over the former city quarter . . ." Absently, I noted Deekin's flurried scratching. Was he . . . Recording this? Bah, I'd ask later. "I remember the nobles had started hoarding grain from the storehouses like it was a dragon's gold," I went on as I picked up steam, "So I'd gone with Da to join the guard when the city was quarantined, since Ma was staying with her family in Blacklake when they first closed it off and they wouldn't let her out. Bastards — wouldn't let us in to see her without joining the bloody guard! I thought, eh what—" 

 I paused and swam for a moment in dim recollection. Solaufein had reminded me of it earlier, but now it came back with a sour taste in my mouth. I could smell the acrid air, tinged by the burning flesh of the dead. We piled the bodies on top of each other and lit them afire and knew that none would mourn them because all that knew them had died from plague as well. Farmhands and their families we'd found dead in their homes boarded up inside purposefully and piled our friends inside to light their homes on fire. I used to find thrills in ancient tombs and killing Zhents before I came home to watch the city of my youth die. It was as if, while the plague ravaged Neverwinter and we were all trapped inside, the demon parts of me became as still and silent as the corpses of them what we put out of their misery. 

 The drow had somehow known, better than I just by watching me, that I craved that fire again. I'd felt it, or something like it, when my collar was removed. He must've recognized it because he saw it in himself. "Damn, Solaufein was right," I accidentally said out loud. I dismissed Sharwyn's questioning glance. Still, I didn't recall any bards, but I rarely recalled specific details when I went into a battle-rage. "'Tis possible we have met and I can scarce recall," I admitted, "but my memory is failing me. I've killed a lot of people since, you know. That was a few years back, and much of it indistinct now, to my memory. Mead, you know."

 Sharwyn smirked. "I imagine so. Perhaps I can fill in some missing details for you. When we met, I was there with the man they later called Hero of Neverwinter."

 "You knows the Hero of Neverwinter?" Deekin interrupted, teeming with interest. Strange to hear someone genuinely excited hearing about the so-called Hero without a drop of sarcasm. The kobold stopped in his scrawling for a moment. "Oooh! Deekin has lots of questions for you. There be a list somewhere in heres. Hrmm." His arm ducked into his pack far deeper than it physically could have, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize it was a bag of holding. My eyes didn't understand what I had seen, at first.

 "I suppose I have some time to answer them," she acceded gracefully, "after all, you are the hero that restored me to life. I am at your disposal."

 Deekin scoffed. "Deekin be no hero. He tell hero tales, is all."

 I frowned at the kobold's swift and short-sighted self-assessment. "Now you do yourself too little credit, master bard," I told him sternly.

 He glared at me. "It not be nice to make fun of Deekin."

 I schooled my features into a plain mask. "If I hit Solaufein with my tail on purpose he'd chop it clean off and toss it in the well. I only do it to you because you let me get away with it." I whapped him on the back gently with it in emphasis, and he swatted at it, irritated. "You make it so easy. I know you to be far from weak, master bard."

 He pushed away my offending appendage. "Gah! Deekin cannot be working like this! He not be sitting next to goat-lady anymore." He grumbled and positioned himself nearer to Sharwyn on the round table. "Now, Deekin has very important question for lady bard about Hero. Does he wear a cape? Or not?" 

 I tuned out the barrage of useless information. Deekin didn't appear to want to know anything useful about the man they had all unfortunately mistaken for a Hero, just tiny details like the color his clothes and if his sword was shiny and what color were the eyes of his pet wolf, and if he loved the sad lady paladin and whether or not he was a kobold. He seemed genuinely sad that the Hero of the story wasn't a kobold, and even said he thought the rumor was too good to be true. Deekin was mostly disappointed that the Hero he'd envisioned didn't actually seem very heroic and mostly had to be bribed, bullied, and literally geased into action when he got saddled with the responsibility of saving Neverwinter after getting involved with the whole Aribeth and Fenthick debacle. Could hardly blame Aribeth in hindsight for defecting, considering how they were both treated by the Lord and his Nine.

 I believed Sharwyn's version of events and highly doubted someone like Aribeth would have been involved with the 'Hero' - and Bishop surely would have bragged to me of such a conquest, as he did with everything else. He'd been my alewife, after all. The salty Luskan ranger had struck me as a scruffy, flaming bawbag when I met him and I wouldn't personally be sorry if our last parting had been the last time I'd ever see his hairy arse. Sharwyn had stirred up the memory of No Man's Land a little more clearly, and she was the authority on it all as far as I was concerned. I had little to do with the Shadow War, or even the plague. Sure, I helped clean up the city and fought in a battle or two and such, but that was far as my involvement got. I would never say I was 'in' the war. I barely touched it. After the Wailing Death was lifted from the city, I got saddled with escort missions during my volunteer period on account of my horns and propensity for massive amounts of collateral damage. Also, the one time I was sent to route cultists I pretended to be a fiend that they'd summoned and just got them really drunk instead, myself and their precious Hero included, and we all woke up naked in the High Forest surrounded by angry druids. After that Gend didn't ask me to help again. 

 As for the illustrious Hero, first time we'd officially met I'd gotten into a ridiculous argument over ale down by this pub in the docks (long before he got the titles) and we'd called each other every name under the sun. Bishop wasn't terrible looking and gave as good as he got, and past him being a flaming bawbag he managed to make me laugh, so we'd had a drunken bonnie bugger or two. It was hardly noteworthy. We'd gotten stinking drunk on a fair regular basis (along with Da and half the rest of the docks, the plague was a strange time) and had a few mishaps including one argument where he'd finally just shot me in the left buttock with one of his arrows and I'd beaten his hairy arse in retaliation, but that's not the sort of detail they probably thought to include in the official version. 'Gets wasted with demons and barbarians every night' isn't the sort of thing they'd like to include in the Historias. They'd much rather paint their saviors as idyllic, than the wreckages that they really are.

 Second time I really 'bumped' into him, still had no idea who he really was and he still wasn't famous or nothing. I'd barely caught a glimpse of him as he brushed past me while I was getting supplies from Eltoora one day, rather rudely I might add. Arsehole barreled his way right through my purchase to demand her immediate attention as if the bloody world waited at his word. I recalled bowing obsequiously and making an arse out of myself, all, 'pardon me your Worshipfulness, I didn't expect to be in the presence of a KING,' because I'd had a difficult day full of grave-digging and he'd just been the icing on it. He stared at me while the wolf at his side panted and sniffed my hand. Bishop waited for me to be finished with my piece, bowed sarcastically then said, 'don't worry, peasant, this'll be short and painless,' and went right back to talking to Eltoora. I gave the wolf a few pats, and that was the end of that. 

 Not counting that incident in Blacklake and the whole cult shit that I barely remembered, the last time he and I had met he literally hit me in the arse with a stray arrow during the Battle for Old Owl Well against some Many-Arrows who thought they'd get the upper-hand while we were being routed by Luskans, and then we all got startled by that dragon showing up. Right in left cheek again, practically the same spot, just as the red dragon landed. Took me right out of the battle. If it weren't for the fact that he was already the Hero at that point and I was in so much pain, I would've probably tried to kill him, and then you'd be listening to a dead demon.

 After he reportedly convinced Lady Aribeth to stand down during her siege, I suppose he must've fucked off because I recalled her hanging on a wintry morning with a taste of bitterness in my mouth, and it was shortly followed by decree of the Nine that the Bishop's name illegal to publish or say aloud. He was officially exiled for lighting Castle Never on fire and trying to kill Lord Nasher, though no one knew whether or not that was true. He hadn't been seen, probably got out while the getting was good. They surely would've hung him on the hanging tree next to Aribeth, otherwise. I didn't like paladins, at all, but it was . . . ugly. The crowd cheered for it. They scorned Aribeth even though she had dedicated most of her life to protecting them and turned on them after watching her lover hang. Fenthick's crime had only been being not too bright and manipulated by a cult. Bishop's only crime was a desire to not be manipulated by arseholes and be left alone. Aribeth's only crime was losing her faith. None of it seemed entirely healthy.

 I'd met Aribeth all of once, before my ma, da, and I watched her take a swing from the tree. I'd bumped into her and she had apologized. It was in Port Llast a while before she defected, and she'd had dark circles under her eyes. Her aura prickled at me as she hurried away when I awkwardly and impulsively asked her if she was feeling alright and wanted to talk. I didn't know what else to say but I was struck with the urge to say something because she seemed as though she'd been crying. She didn't even know my name and seemed conflicted for a moment before assuring me she was fine and rushed off. After that she'd stared at me once more from across a ways like I'd caught her eye. She'd seemed surprised by what she saw and looked away. Probably just judging a lady by the horns. Paladins!

 Durnan and his family had set up cots for all the adventurers and such that holed up there from the chaos outside. I didn't need to be told what was going on - the scent of fear was so strong in the room at times I felt nauseous. I dozed off to the sound of Sharwyn's voice telling tales of our native city and felt a vague sense of regret in my Nether scrolls for having been neglected for so long. I had spent almost every waking minute trying to find ways to break my collar until, at one point, I'd given up. I hadn't resigned myself to my fate, but I knew I could not break it on my own. I'd waited, and cursed, and waited, and cursed, and truth be told I had no way of knowing how long I'd truly been down there. I'd found a pathway to the second level only by trial and error with portals in different patterns. I'd spent a whole week on the test until I'd found the right combination. I had my mind on other matters, is what I'm saying.

 I'd been foisted of my armor and clothes for laundering and cleaning and allowed a nice warm bath, which surprised me a lot since I wasn't aware I was allowed to be treated nice by Durnan's wife's order, but hey. Maybe they aren't all so bad. The downside was I'd been given an ugly shift to wear until the morning, but the upside is I was now clean and grateful to be so. I even told Tamsin to tell her mother thank you, since it was probably the only nice thing a paladin had ever done for me. 

 I'd tried to fall asleep on one of the cots they gave me, but Solaufein's offer rang so loudly in my head that it drowned out the rest of my thoughts. I could hardly find a moment's privacy with everyone running about and when he'd caught me earlier in an isolated moment, it had gotten me a little paranoid. It wasn't so much that I cared that people knew I was masturbating, it was just awkward to do it while someone watched you if they weren't your sexual partner. 

 I waited 'til everyone was asleep that I could see or tell and walked as quietly as I could up the stairs toward Solaufein's room. My heart pounded irrationally when I knocked gently on his door. Solaufein's feet padded over to the door and he opened it. I was greeted with his scent before my eyes adjusted to the sudden light; the grave soil smell had thankfully abated, but there was a faint coriander somehow with something I didn't recognize. I'd never paid much attention to it before because I assumed it was Undermountain that had set my teeth on edge, but there was something about him now that we were away from the place that bothered me. It wasn't quite an itch, but it felt . . . Tingly, like a menthol balm at the nape of my neck. I wasn't sure if I liked it.

 He took in my appearance with amusement. It was strange seeing him out of armor with tousled hair. Not at all displeasing, just strange. "What is that?" he gestured to the nightmare I was wearing.

 I plucked at the nightgown. "Couldn't wander about up here nekkid, or Mhaere might've boxed my ears. So I got this to wander about until they launder my things. Nice enough folks." I poked my head inside. "How come you got the big room?"

 Solaufein opened the door. I had to duck to come in, blast being six feet. I did stand nearly half a head above him, but he was rather tall for an elf. "It was luck of the draw, as Tymorans say. It is the bridal suite."

 I closed the door behind me and felt my tail twitch. "Who would have a wedding here? Above Undermountain?" I didn't believe it. "The great big death-puzzle?"

 Solaufein shrugged and crossed the floor. He'd been in the middle of taking off his armor, it looked like, and he unclipped his sword belt to place it near the bed. "I was told that it was not uncommon. I have found humans to be extremely odd creatures." 

 "Oh, I'll agree to that," I said and tried not to think about my parents because it would've been uncomfortable to have that one on my mind, and then floundered a little bit for a topic. It was suddenly silent. I'd never been particularly good at small talk. "So, er," I blundered.

 The drow stared at me, or through me. His eyes had a funny way about that. "Take it off," he instructed. I didn't mind being naked, even preferred it, and that is how he met me . . . But it felt a little different now than it had before. Maybe because now, I'd actually had a bath. I worried for a moment that going further might somehow disrupt things, but I was past caring. I was more than ready. I stepped out of the fallen shift and forward, and started pulling off his clothes too, starting with his shirt.

 "Where should I . . ." I trailed off, wondering where exactly he wanted to begin.

 Solaufein gestured toward the bed. "You should lay down." I smiled and did so. I flopped back, feeling a little nervous about my horns and claws - but I managed to avoid sticking them into fragile bits of the bed. He approached, slowly, and I instinctively spread my legs. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he instructed.

 Solaufein is direct, skilled, and patient. You could say that about his swordplay or his lovemaking; this much I learned that night. He crawled toward me on the bed like a supplicant petitioner and swiftly latched his mouth on my sex. The rush of blood suddenly had me seeing stars and letting out uncontrollable sighs that pleased him. I entered a place beyond words where I could only take simple direction as his tongue performed an ornate oral service that left me whimpering and laughing in joy at the same time. Perhaps it was because it had been so long since I'd lain with a man, or perhaps I'd never lain with one so skilled; I was not about to question my fortune. 

 When Solaufein pulled his head back for a moment to regard me, I met his languid gaze. "Your eyes glow," he observed with interest. I had to remember how to speak Common first. 

 "They do that in battle or arousal," I nodded, and felt something flame in my gut as his eyes wove around my curves. I felt like I was burning up and I found myself creeping forward on the bed on my hands and knees to take him into my mouth. I sheltered him kindly from my canines by wrapping my lips around him and swirled my tongue around the head as I started to give him long strokes. His hand twisted in my loose hair and gripped my horns as leaned his head back and moaned, and the wanton sound of it set me quivering.

 He pulled up at my roots lightly, gently pulling me away from him. "I will finish too fast if you continue," he hissed. He explored my features with his callused fingers, trailing from my brow to my lips.

 "You talk too much," I informed him, and pulled him down to seal his mouth around mine. Fair was fair, and he'd said as much to me. I needed the touch of another as much as he did, so I knew he could not mind, but the act of kissing was a little more intimate than I think he was expecting. His lips didn't move to accommodate mine at first, as if he was confused, but he quickly obliged and pushed me further into the bed, grinding against me as I wrapped my legs and tail around him. 

 He drew me achingly close to the edge over and over again; first he had taken me and placed my knees nearly over my head, the height advantage I held making it entertaining for us both to find inventive positions and new angles. I'd had ridden him for a time and found another release of my own. He'd had his chance to torture me and I had a bit of fun denying him but wondered at his discipline. He was a drow, I knew, and that had to mean he was used to women calling the shots. Their priestesses were infamously cruel and demeaning of the other sex, and submission seemed antithetical to their culture.

 I let a wicked smile cross my face. "Take me from behind," I demanded. He blinked. Maybe it took him a few moments to remember words, as he said nothing, but his hesitation spoke. I let him take his time positioning himself and bent obligingly forward over my knees, and practically purred when he ran his fingers down my spine and all the way down to the tip of my tail.

 It didn't take Solaufein long to figure out his pace. I bit my lip to keep from screaming too loudly a few times; something about the angle, perhaps, or the size of him being just right. I knew not what it is, but it felt divine, like a rage but less out of control. I was . . . Somewhere else mentally that he'd sent me, in some deeper and cleansing awareness. My tail had mostly been obstructive during our little experiment, but I found an out-of-the-way use for it and wrapped it around my belly through my legs to rub against the both of us. It was nice, having a prehensile tail sometimes. He'd taken his time at first in the position but gasped at the new sensation and started ramming a bit harder and deeper.

 I heard more than felt the sheets tear under my claws as I got sent into a climax so hard it made my head spin. A cry erupted from me out of my subconscious and clawed at the walls. I felt his discipline crack as his hands gripped one of my horns and the other my hair; an erotic, deep-throated groan erupted from his chest, and his seed was hopelessly lost somewhere inside of me as I felt him empty in a quick series of thrusts. It left the both of us gasping and content animals.

 It was, altogether, a genuinely nice evening despite the doom of things. 

 We laid about for a while before figuring out how to form words again. "That was . . . I'm . . ." They weren't the best words, but they were all I had.

 Solaufein hummed in agreement and closed his eyes, breathing in deep. "Ssin'urne xunor," he hummed.

 "That's a word for it."

 ". . . A dhaerow female would have found that position demeaning."

 I scoffed. "I don't feel demeaned. Satisfied, yes."

 He smiled and it was a nice and gentle look on his face. He was silent for a few moments. "I need to v'dri. I think your word for it is 'reverie.' If you want to leave feel free, or you may sleep here, but try not to make too much noise." His eyes fluttered in close before I could get another word in at him. 

 I told myself that I'd leave in a little while and watched him for a moment. I got up to take a piss and clean up, then went back and cozied myself next to him, feeling safe and warm for the first time in years that I could recall. I quickly fell asleep and forgot all about leaving. 

 I kept on forgetting all about it until I woke up to a rather startled human girl shaking me and jumping back in fright when I bolted upright, startlingly awake. "AH! S-sorry miss!" The girl blurted. "I just w-wanted to tell you that we have your clothes ready, um . . ."

 I rubbed my eyes and clucked in recognition. "Tamsin. Right. Durnan's, uh, daughter. Where am I? Am I dead? Stupid question, no, I'm obviously not." I shook my head from of my already-fading dreams. My dreams usually ended with me dying in some horrible fashion, but I'd gotten used to ignoring them.

 Tamsin flushed all the way to her hairline. "Um, you are in the, er—"

 I cut her off and finished my own thought. "Right! Undermountain. Right. Gotta prepare for that. Fuck. Yes, and if you have it, another bath would be lovely. Where'd that blasted drow go, anyway?"

 Tamsin flushed to the roots of her hair, and it just hit me that I was a large cambion woman with big ol' horns and a flashy tail standing stark naked in the Hero of Undrentide's room. "M-master Solaufein is downstairs, madam."

 Well, she'd found me stark naked, and there was no going back from that. I politely introduced myself. "I'm Binne. That's my name, you can use it."

 "Y-yes, Mistress Binne." Her cheeks became several shades of darker red.

 I snapped, feeling more amused than impatient at her embarrassed manner: "Stop stuttering! I'm not a 'Mistress.' And I'm not going to hurt you, or I'd have done it already. Why is it people are always afraid of me? Is it the height? Or the horns? Or the nudity?"

 "I-I think it might be all of those things, milady . . . If you'll follow me to baths . . .? The water might be cold now, I'm sorry."

 The second bath made me forget about all my fluffy-headedness and helped me realize that I felt better than I'd felt in years. My clothes and armor had been placed out of hands reach of the bath, so there was a bit of a chilly scramble to put on the chain tunic and boots and such, but it wasn't so bad. I'd even been given a nail file, though I'd accidentally broken it against my claws after getting my toes, which embarrassed me a little so I hid it in a potted plant and prayed silently they wouldn't find it.

 I got downstairs finally and met Deekin, who started distributing communal potions of antidote and such to me. I was immune to most poisons (infernal blood thing), but the gesture was nice, and we were going up against sneaky drow so it probably was better to be safe than sorry. No sooner had I thought that then I noticed Solaufein's approach. I thought I would feel something different between us when we woke next, but I was pleasantly surprised to feel exactly the same as I had before. Just a little more satisfied. A little more comfortable. 

 He simply nodded at me. The fires had dimmed in the hearth since but I saw a few embers reflected from his eyes, glinting in the studs on his ears as he knelt to stoke it. This time, he was a looming, silent shadow save for the shock of white hair that was now cleaned and bound back in a short braid. I relaxed and yawned. "Solaufein! Is it killing time, then?" I wondered. 

 "Almost. Get ready," he instructed, "if you still desire to. You may meet us by the well."

 "M'ready. Lessgo." I yawned again. My body ached all over once I sat up, but in some pleasant as well as unpleasant ways. "Have you any potions of speed? I seem to be a bit slow. Ah, I haven't slept so soundly in ages . . ."

 I sensed, rather than saw Solaufein impatient eye roll. "Your snoring would keep up the whole city," he grumbled and left me behind to fend alone and headed downstairs. It hit my horns on the door-frame downstairs twice in the process, giving Deekin some amusement at my expense, but I did eventually manage to get my arse back down the stairs to the well-room. I was less excited about it now that I was awake then I'd been before I fell asleep. The kobold was positively chipper the entire way down. Eventually the drow pointed out, in a tone of forced politeness that made me smile, that talking was a less than good idea until they were more certain of their surroundings.

 Something niggled at my memory, but I was still trying to sort out whether or not I was still dreaming. Durnan hit the switch and barked a goodbye, while Solaufein nodded. I blinked a few times as the well clanked and clacked. It was a terribly slow machine, almost tortuous. Darkness crept up on us until all we could see was the glow of Solaufein's eyes, scanning us in the spectrum of heat.

 "Where are we going?" I thought to finally ask.

 "As far down as we can," Solaufein uttered ominously.

 "Have you been past the second level? Because I know how to skip past it and get into Halaster's laboratory," I offered. "It's a shortcut."

 He stared at me for a few seconds, light of his eyes abruptly cutting out and reappearing as he blinked in disbelief at my words. Or maybe he was staring at my hair. Without a mirror, it was assuredly awful. I patted at it self-consciously. "Why did it not occur to you to mention this before?"

 "Deekin bets goat-lady forgets. He does that sometimes, which is why he writes things down." Was the kobold defending me? Or being sarcastic? It was hard to tell. Did he understand sarcasm at all?

 I defended reasonably, "Well, it didn't come to mind before now. There's not much left in there 'cept for all the golems. I figured out a shortcut downstairs through the portals through days of trial-and-error. Getting to the lab may be tricky if the drow have been fiddling with things, though. They're sneaky, sordid bunch. Present company excluded."

 "That be where Boss' cloak come in handy, yes?" Deekin supplied.

 Solaufein's response was to sigh and pull a rather nice looking cloak out of Deekin's bag of holding. It was likely made of spider-silk, but its significance escaped me. What had he called it earlier, to Durnan? Blast, I hadn't been paying attention. "Are you just gonna walk up to them and say hello, then?" I wondered. 

 The drow warrior snorted, or maybe guffawed - it was hard to tell because he usually comported himself with dignity. He had none to spare for me, however. "Vendui abbanen, sjaad'ur ussta bran vithanna rothen. F'sarn reiyal kyreshorlh vigh!" He mocked. 

 I frowned. "That didn't sound complimentary at all."

 Solaufein groaned and switched back to Common. "You are correct, it was not a compliment. I included hand gestures, but it now occurs to me you could not have possibly seen them. I have wasted a perfectly good joke on you."

 I squinted. I saw only the glow of his eyes and his vague physical outline. It didn't help that he was wearing dark armor and had dark skin. I did not have darkvision, but I could see well in night conditions. I probably would survive in the Underdark, but not well. "I'm going to have to learn drowish to understand you, aren't I?"

 "It is called Ilythiiri. Suffice to say that any sane drow would rightly think me mad. I would have to convince them I keep the two of you around for pleasure . . . or sustenance."

 Deekin made a whining noise. "Drow don't eat kobold! . . . Do they?"

 Solaufein's sudden silence was an answer in of itself. "Any of my people we encounter I must approach alone. You and Deekin will remain in invisibility at a distance, and attack only at my signal. The background heat of Undermountain's lava flows shall provide good heat cover for you."

 "That sounds very silly and complicated," I criticized. "It'd be far easier if we killed them all and resurrected one to interrogate," I pointed out, "and my plan wouldn't offer your backside up to them for stabbing like yours does."

 He was full of eye rolls that morning - and it knew it was an eye roll because I could hear it in his scoff. And here I thought we were becoming special friends. "Just be as quiet as possible and do as I say." I followed behind Deekin when the well finally lowered and the dome opened to the dim light from the nearby lava flow beneath the Yawning Portal. I couldn't see the top when I tried to peer up, so far down we were. And the Underdark would be darker still . . . 

 I told myself I would only follow him until I killed all the rakshasa and ogres downstairs in revenge, for enslaving me. I would use him to kill them all, and in exchange I would help him with his drow problem. I couldn't help that he was a drow, mind you, but I was good at killing and so was he. After all, he'd saved my arse, and it was only fair, and the sex was pretty damn good, and he wasn't at all weird about it after like most would've been. He'd not exactly asked for my help, more . . . Simply expected it. 

 It felt strangely natural, despite the unnatural circumstances of our meeting, that I should follow him into coming battles. Maybe it was his bearing; he walked and moved his sword arm with the weight of years of experience. As an elf, who knew how many centuries he'd been around? Maybe it was how he spoke as if he knew me, and I'd never really had that before. I'd never felt like true kin to anyone but Brega, but here this stranger had taken me in stride and it felt like the most inexplicably natural thing to do. And maybe I'd stay because it seemed like he could use my help. And maybe he was nice to me, if a bit rude at times, but it wasn't because I had horns. And maybe if he criticized me it was sometimes warranted, because sometimes I had dumb ideas. And maybe the kobold did amuse me a little. 

 Maybe this all wouldn't be so bad.

Drow-to-Common Dictionary:

Gol . . . Nasty-ass goblin

Nau . . . Hell nah

Rul'selozan . . . Ugh, gross!

Yaith . . . Fucking pay attention you crazy demon woman

Orth Orb'cress . . . A real shithole of a place you don't want to be if you're Solaufein

Ssin'urne . . . Kind of compliment you can only give to someone post-orgasm

Vendui abb . . . Hey dudes, pardon my loud sex-slaves, as you can plainly see I am totally batshit