"And so it was that Phaedrus of the Ril of the Argent Hand found himself on the steps of the Great Library of Palanthas. And, having found himself on those steps, proceeded to knock twice on the massive doors of that great edifice."
It begins with whispering; thin, rasping words just beneath recognition in the back of my head, scratching at my soul. It was always hers, my soul. My life-givers consecrated my egg in her name during fertilization; the one who guarded my egg's growth pledged both my body and soul to her at the time of my birth. At adolescence, when I joined my first hunt, my soul was dedicated to her again; it was the medium through which I gifted her the blood of my first kill.I have always belonged to the lich-queen.
The following is a popular children's story among the githyanki people. For those unfamiliar with the githyanki language, "Growing Out of the Slip" is a euphemism for the maturation process. Githyanki spend the first three decades of their life outside the astral plane, in hidden underground lairs where time passes fast enough to allow them to grow.
“You always did have an appreciation for subtlety my beloved. I like to think that it brought a smile to your heart, if only a scream to your lips when centuries of the same led me to the ultimate lesson you taught me. The choice was mine dearest, but you cannot deny that it was a test of your own making you set me upon. And now, as always, you are my light in the darkness, piercing through even the deepest shadows to illuminate my work. One way or the other. And no, I never did answer your question did I?”
The Marut moved with slow, inexorable purpose. Too long had this one defied the laws of the multiverse. Too long had this one lingered on and not suffered the chalk white hand of death itself to close their eyes as all beings must eventually. Years had stretched to decades, decades to centuries, and long centuries to millennia and still had this one not fallen into dust, but lingered on by will and unholy sorcery. But laws were laws, laws were everything, and all must bow before them. The Marut walked on.
The characters involved here may be familiar to those reading my storyhour, and this story takes place seperate from that. Some of the same characters, but a wholly different timeline/continuity, especially with respect to events in Carceri.
This takes place as an aside to the continuity of my storyhour, largely as an examination of things hinted at but never fully detailed and explored. However you can assume that the events of the story happened within the context of that storyhour's plot. Enjoy.
This was originally part of a larger piece that gave an overview of the Waste as a whole, but I'm not sure if that will ever see light, so here's the opening flavor text/fiction for it.“Oy, yer a new one dearie. Strug’lin mightily, a fat price ye’ll fetch from the Baatezu, or the Tanar’ri, whot ee’r getcha firs’…”
This was originally part of a larger piece that gave an overview of Gehenna as a whole, but I'm not sure if that will ever see light, so here's the opening flavor text/fiction for it.“Why can’t I move? I can’t see anything else either…”