Name : Xira Witchblade
Race : Half-Drow
Age : 21
Height : 5’ 9”
Weight : 136 lbs
Eyes : a light fierce violet
Hair : white with a slightly warm gold bronze hue to it
Skin : not ebony, not obsidian, but a light gray brown
“Alright
jalil… we rest here,” the drowess said as she stopped near a cave mouth of impenetrable darkness.
“
Del’heen mallla,” it sounded somewhere from behind her.
Small, loose stones littering the rocky floor caused her almost to trip as she finally caught up with her slim, lightweight mistress.
“Watch where you step,
phindar,” the drowess snarled over her shoulder,” You are of no use to me when you break an arm.”
Lael’fryn, First Champion of House S’sril turned her gaze back to the cave in front of them. “
Kyorlin,” she simply said and without looking back she made her way to the entrance.
From behind a mask made from strips of cloth wound directly around the head, nosetrils flared dangerously and air was drawn in with a muffled hiss. Violet eyes peering cold and rigid through a narrow slit in a mask that would be more suitable in a desert, narrowed at the drowess’ back as she moved stealthily over the rocks.
Xira plumped the heavy bags down beside her. Bags the two carriers had been hauling all the way from Menzoberranzan... until they found their death just when the small party had entered the Gauth Grottoes.
She pondered… with no one left from their party, now was perhaps a chance. But just when her hand reached for a space in her boot, cries of panic echoed through the narrow canyon. Xira’s hand instead went up to the handle of the blade attached on her back.
“
Sreen, ryld! Ulu usstan!” Lael’fryn’s voice sounded from the darkness.
For a moment Xira almost obeyed the command of her mistress. But when growls and the sickening sound of flesh torn apart reached her ears, Xira didn’t think twice. She grabbed one of the bags, turned around and started to run in opposite direction.
“
Usstan'sargh wael!!” it sounded behind her, and those were the last words she would ever have to hear from her mistress.
Xira ignored them. Distance was all what mattered right now and she wouldn’t be stopping for anything. And she sure as hell wasn’t turning around for a miserable attempt to save that twat’s life. Instead she ran the air out of her lungs but at some point her feet slipped outwards on the wet rock floor as she rounded a corner. She picked herself up and resumed running, with each footfall a jarring pain shooting from her ankle to her knee, and back. Her heart was beating frantically, yet… it was all or nothing cause whenever she stopped, her body would become a meal as well.
She had no idea of how long she had been running. Eventually she took a left into a narrow chasm that opened into an enormous cavern lit by thousands of fluorescent mushrooms. Xira’s jaw dropped as she faced the radiant blue water of a shimmering waterfall. She perked up her ears and listened carefully. Nothing but the sound of water washing over the rocks into a glowing pool. Safe… at last.
Xira looked a moment over her shoulder into that pitch black forest of stalactites and stalagmites and mumbled,” Yes, perhaps I am a
phindar, but it was a
phindar that got you hard…”
She paused a moment when she looked back at the ring of stone around the pool, her fingers clenching into a claw,”... and it wasn’t me this time.”
Drow dictionary