PARADISA LOST

[growled darkly under his breath]

A l' thal uoi'notan...

Zhahen Usstan saph ussta lodias, Usstan xal ragar nindol jivvin. P'luin l' vlos inbalus tlusher ulu takar lu' l' ul'nussten d'lil uss vel'uss xunus nindol inbalus tois tarthe.

The similarities I have seen in these last few days among the writings in this book lead me once more to contemplation of my own world. More than that, I think again about the people that I have long since left behind.

There has been a great deal of singing in the castle of late, for no other purpose, it seems, than simply the desire to do so. How very different such an environment is from Menzoberranzan. The drow do not sing unless it be in praise to Lloth. There is no joy in the hearts of my people. There is no understanding of levity.

Nor is there a veneration of mothers. The Matron Mothers of Menzoberranzan are feared by the members of their Houses, by commoners and nobles alike. No love passes between the Matron Mother and her offspring. Her daughters become priestesses, the higher they ascend the greater the standing of the House, and if it is no destroyed by war, if the House does not lose Lloth's favor, one day the strongest daughter will kill her mother and become Matron Mother. The sons are of little importance. They are males, weak and worthless in the eyes of the Matron and her daughters. Perhaps one becomes Weapon Master of the House or a high ranking wizard, a master in Sorcere. That is as far as a son can go, that is the height of his ambition. There can be only two sons of a Matron Mother, though the number of daughters is unlimited. A third son, if he is unfortunate enough to be born, is sacrificed to Lloth, his heart cut from his living body shortly after birth.

Such was to have been my fate; had my brother Dinin held his hand against Nalfein, I would not have lived to trouble my twisted family. But strike he did, and Malice no longer had a third son to spare.

I did not mourn her passing, the day I heard that she had been killed by my sister Briza. I did not mourn the destruction of Daermon N'a'shezbaernon, the House into which I was born.

As I have many times before, I wonder what it would have been like to have had a real family, such as I have seen during my travels across the surface of Toril. If my mother had been like my father.

It is a pointless exercise, I know. Yet sometimes, I cannot help myself.

Who: Drizzt (dawn_hunter) and Helena (anormal_life)
When: This afternoon
Where: Drizzt's room
What: Helena decides Drizzt needs help understanding women
Rating: PG

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Henry Townshend, you and I shall have words.

[speaking quickly]

Is anyone in this castle a healer?

Please, I need help. A friend has been injured and I have little skill in the healing arts.

We are victorious. The enemy has been defeated.

I have not fought foes such as those before, and it is my wish that I shall never have to do so again. It is one thing to fight against those who choose to meet in combat. It is quite another to slaughter people who have had that decision taken from them.

Kaylee, are you well? Did you remain safe?

[speaking out loud in his confusion, unaware that he is being recorded by the book laying nearby]

What is this place? Where am I?

It must have been a spell. But from whom? And why?

Guenhwyvar, come to me. I am in need of your aid.