mickume/dnd_drow · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 41.4k
The Drow wizard started to retort, his voice rising in anger, but then he stopped himself, taking a steadying breath before continuing. Any defiance he had crumbled. Anger flashed across his face, but he checked it, reining in his emotions.
After a tense pause, he handed over the shard to Tav.
She curled her fingers around it, mockingly slow, taking it from him with a wicked smile. Gale’s mouth dropped open.
Once the shard was securely in her possession, Tav's eyes locked onto the Drow's with a challenge. With a voice dripping with authority and a touch of malice, she spoke one word, one in Drow that Gale happened to know (don’t ask him how) -
"Harl'il'cik."
She spoke in Common then, and Gale tried to understand the significance of the switch but was too caught up when the bard whispered, " Know your place."
The Drow male hesitated, the weight of the command heavy between them. But after what felt like an eternity, he slowly, begrudgingly, bent his knee to the ground, submitting to her will.
Tav's posture relaxed slightly, her point clearly made. She gestured dismissively, signaling that the conversation was over. The Drow wizard hesitated for a brief moment, lifted his gaze, let it linger on Tav, then scrambled to his feet, turned, and quickly retreated into the depths of the Underdark.
Gale, curious, approached Tav. "What...?" He had too many questions, all dying on the tip of his tongue.
Tav looked at him, her eyes still flashing with the remnants of her anger.
She seemed taken aback when she processed it was Gale in front of her before her lips curled into a sly smile, her eyes gleaming mischievously. "Oh, just some... pleasantries." Her words were dripping with a playful yet guarded tone, making it clear she was dancing around the truth.
An uneasy tension settled over the group, the distant echoes of the Underdark and the low hum of magic the only sounds that filled the void. The dim luminescence from the surrounding fungi cast an ethereal glow, painting their faces in shades of blue and purple.
For a moment, they were all statues - much like the Drow , Gale thought bitterly - frozen in time, each lost in their thoughts, most trying to piece together the puzzle of the recent exchange.
It was Wyll who broke the silence, his voice cutting through the quiet like a knife. "What just happened?" His tone, though attempting levity, held an underlying edge of concern. Tav met his gaze, her expression inscrutable. "And what did you mean by that, Tav? He needed to "know his place’ ?" Even as he jokingly mimicked her voice, his eyes searched hers, looking for answers.
Tav hesitated for a moment, her gaze flitting around the group before settling back on Wyll. She pursed her lips, then shrugged as she spoke, as if it were an obvious answer: "Respect is important between Drow."
As if that cleared that whole interaction up.
"Drow like Minthara?" Wyll prodded, and the rest of them nodded thoughtfully, remembering how the two treated each other back in the Goblin Camp, making snide - extremely hypocritical - comments at each other for how the other person "betrayed Lolth" from the instant they had laid eyes on each other.
Gale remembered how Tav had stripped her naked after murdering her, handing over her armor to Astarion, and making snide comments about the superiority of Drow-made armor, even if was on a heretic’s body. Tav had seemingly not realized the irony in that statement - if the way she bristled under the group’s collective gaze was any indication.
With the memory of Minthara’s naked body, realization dawned on Gale, causing a slight blush to color his cheeks. Oh. Right.
"Minthara was a female."
Tav's smirk met his words - distant from his mouth.
Wyll's confusion was evident. "What's the significance?"
"Within Drow...we have very... our society is distinctly..." Tav continued to search for the right words, the bard at a loss for words... for once.
"Matriarchal?" Gale murmured - offered - almost hesitantly.
This was seemingly the prompt Tav needed to continue, "There's a pronounced hierarchy ."
With a smirk, Astarion, leaning against a nearby rock, chimed in after realizing what had actually taken place: "Ah, so our bard was simply reminding the male of the order of things."
A pause. Then, a slight nod from Tav caused Wyll - who looked like he wasn’t expecting that answer - to clear his throat to rid himself of whatever had lodged there. Tav giggled but then paused for just a moment.
As if she was remembering something.
" Matriarchal, Gale?" Oh. So she had heard him. "Is... that ...the way you would describe it?" Tav asks, testing, and the two spellcasters finally meet each other's gaze.
Her lips are pressed into a thin line, while his creeps into a smile as he begins to reach into the depth of his Underdark studies, "Well...yes! Drow civilization is unmistakably matriarchal," he said in a breath, and he sees that she is fighting the urge to smile, the twitch of her lips betraying her. But he is looking at her eyes, and they are shining.
He must keep going.
"Is it not Lolth, the Spider Queen, that is venerated with near fanaticism by the Drow? Well, most Drow," She smiles, impressed. He felt like running a victory lap. "But you’re not most Drow, are you..." And he says it almost to himself, forgetting her keen ears will pick it up.
They both flush.
"Anyway, it’s Lolth whose doctrines largely shape Drow societal norms." She nods, agreeing, but there is something still...
"One is remiss to forget about your Matron Mothers!" And he relishes the way her eyes continue to light up, and he claims the missing piece. He allows himself to drink in the way her mouth breaks out into a smile she can’t control. He can feel Astarion rolling his eyes, but Gale truly doesn’t care.
"Matron Mothers?" Wyll’s voice is pure curiosity.
Gale hears the roar of the crowd now. He has won.
Tav shakes whatever she is thinking from her head, turning to Wyll and opening her mouth to speak, but Gale beats her to the punch, looking at Wyll with delight for asking the question, cutting Tav off without meaning to. She simply closes her mouth and stares at Gale with hungry eyes that go unnoticed by the mage as he rambles.
"Each prominent House - and there are many in the Drow-led cities; we will visit several while we’re here, I imagine," he drinks in Tav’s rapid nods, her approval, before continuing, "The Houses are led by a Matron Mother. The Matron Mothers are, you know, generally clerics of Lolth and often high priestesses. The point is that they channel the will of Lolth herself," and he realizes at this point (perhaps too late, still) that he’s rambling, but can’t quite stop himself.
"Their authority is both divine and temporal, intertwining religious devotion with political intrigue. They are truly fascinating, you know. And, beyond just the Matron Mothers, all their women hold a unique position," he hears himself continuing, but it’s a him that he can barely control. His voice is soft, entranced. "They are not just figures of authority and strength, but they also exude a captivating elegance."
A pause, then a last murmur from his lips, "We should consider ourselves lucky, truly, to witness such beauty."
Then, a quick clarification: "To be here."
Tav said nothing. The subtext - text, even - was clear, and while Gale may not have spoken her name, everyone present felt the weight of his words and whom they referenced.
And then he realized that Tav was staring at him. Smiling.
A smile that, if he were Astarion, he would call delicious.
A smile that if Wyll saw on any other Drow, the monster hunter would call evil.
A smile that Gale can’t name because that smile is directed at him, and he can’t think of a single adjective, as his mouth dries and he swallows the lump in his throat.
Tav was motionless for a beat, letting Gale's words hover in the air between them.
The torchlight caught the edges of her face as she watched him , the glow accentuating the lines of her cheekbones and casting her eyes in a deep, enigmatic shade. She seemed to absorb every word he said, letting it seep into her.
Then, slowly, she tilted her head, her eyes still locked onto his, her lips curling into a smile - a dangerous, mischievous, and enthralling smile. Finally, she leaned in closer, the gap between them shrinking.
Tav's voice took on a teasing lilt, low and honeyed. "You've clearly done your homework, scholar. If I were in the position to grade, I'd say you're on the verge of top marks. Clearly, what you're striving for. But you’ve earned it."
Gale felt himself flush - but with more than embarrassment that tinged his cheeks. It was something else, pooling dark in his stomach and somewhere even lower that he wanted to push from his mind.
"But remember," she continued, her gaze unwavering, the playful edge to her voice sharpening just a tad, "that's just the tip of the iceberg, especially when it comes to Drow women."
She let a beat pass, allowing the charged silence to underscore her point as her eyes roamed over his figure hungrily .
"There is... so much more lurking beneath the surface."
The argument between Tav and the Drow wizard - and what had truly been said during it - had been on Gale’s mind for the rest of the day.
And finding the scroll was a coincidence.
The scroll Gale found - almost by accident - was buried beneath a pile of assorted items they had scavenged, a chest left behind by Lolth-sworn Drow that Tav had cursed the entire time Astarion spent lockpicking it. It was a simple scroll, aged and worn with time:
"Comprehend Languages"
During his years of study, "Comprehend Languages" had been an invaluable tool for him. He'd used it to decipher many a tome written in languages far beyond his understanding - despite how many he knew - each time feeling that thrill of discovery as foreign words transformed into clear, comprehensible thoughts in his mind.
It was a magic he'd grown fond of, familiar and comforting in its utility.
Each incantation brought with it the intoxicating thrill of unearthing hidden secrets, the words unraveling and dancing into coherence before his very eyes.
It was an old lover, a spark that dulled into a calm blaze, a confidant in his insatiable quest for understanding.
However, this endeavor? This was a leap into the arcane unknown.
The audacious notion of harnessing the spell to penetrate a memory, to unravel a previously half-grasped conversation, was tantalizingly novel.
Merging the boundaries of magic and cognition in a way that felt almost... forbidden.
His pulse quickened, his skin tingling with anticipation. The sensation was electric — that raw, unadulterated excitement of venturing into the unexplored, learning something so tantalizing, fresh, and new . It mirrored the adrenaline he felt when faced with a puzzling manuscript, its mysterious contents waiting to be unveiled.
But this felt even more intimate , more personal.
The orb in his chest thrummed in excitement.
He closed his eyes, opening and closing his palms by his sides before performing the associated somatic component to the spell.
Whispering the incantation, he felt the spell's tendrils wrap around his senses, guiding and amplifying his cognitive abilities. The final words of the chant resonated in the air, and a deluge of clarity washed over him.
It was as if he had been granted a new lens to perceive the world, sharpening the blurry edges of understanding.
It felt exhilarating.
His free hand, the one aloft and keeping him understanding the languages, pressed against the bulge growing in his trousers. He let out a throaty groan, tilting his head back, tendrils of brown hair tumbling behind him.
Emboldened, shuddering, so completely wound-up it hurt, Gale delved deep into the recesses of his mind, nudging the tadpole that nestled there and using it to replay the memory of Tav's fierce confrontation with the Drow wizard.
Phrases that once were indecipherable began to weave into discernible patterns. The tone, the emotion, the very essence of the dialogue; all began to crystallize, painting a picture that was previously out of reach.
"I offer to parlay, and he brings a spectator? Twit. Quite ruined my ambush. Now - you are?"
It’s not a perfect translation, one that misses a lot of nuances - Gale assumes - but he can understand Tav's voice, cold and sharp, as she responds,
"Accustomed to a little more respect from a male."
Gale laughs, shocked.
The Drow wizard's initial bravado seemed to crack. He staggered a step back, his confident posture now sagging, the weight of Tav's reprimand evident. There was a momentary pause where even the ambient sounds of the camp seemed to hush in anticipation. "My apologies... valsharess. "
The shock of the translation jolts Gale out of the memory.
He is fully hard now, pressing against his own stomach with an urgency he hadn’t felt for a long time. He’s not quite sure which aspect of this situation is turning him on the most - the learning what was said, the discovering the information, or what was being said - Tav dominating the Drow in front of her.
He tries to pull the memory of Tav’s reaction to being called mistress back into his head, but all he can conjure are lewd fantasies about what he hopes her reaction would be.
The orb is burning, waiting for his reaction. Its fiery demand waits for a response. He has to force himself back to the reality of the situation - if he lets go, so does it.
With a pause, steadying himself, Gale delved back into the memory, and he sees it, sees where the Drow wizard swallowed hard, trying to salvage his dented pride. Taking a deep breath, he introduced himself, the words coming out more as a plea for understanding than a proclamation, "I am Dhourn. Third son of House Ba'Tol, first rank evoker, and initiate of Gravenhallow's..."
Tav stood poised, her arms crossed, radiating barely controlled irritation. Yet, Gale noticed a flicker of curiosity dart across her features when Dhourn carefully produced the memory shard from his pocket.
"...oh. Oh no, no, my dear dark GODS BELOW, NO !"
Gale could practically feel the chill in Tav's voice as she responded, "It's fading. Seems you've been frozen like that for a while."
Dhourn's voice conveyed a mix of shock and dawning realization. "Far, far longer than I realized."
The conversation continued, Dhourn's words painting a tale of rivalry and ambition: "Then my enemies have already found the forge. Which bastard stole my glory - Xargim? Filro?"
Tav's interjection came with a hint of amusement: "Do you speak of the Adamantine Forge? It's still hidden, as far as I know."
But Dhourn, driven solely by his own narrative, went on, "Impossible. My rivals would have stopped at nothing. Unless... hah! The fools must have turned back. Or, better yet, died in the search. Good. If they just surrendered their research to me, we might have found the forge together. But no - they hoarded their knowledge, left each of us clinging to scraps."
Gale could see Tav’s eyes begin to glaze over as Dhourn continued, "I had the good sense to lock mine away in the shard. And now I can claim the forge alone."
Yet, as Gale watched, her response was swift and dismissive, voice dripping with authority.
"You'll claim nothing. Hand over the crystal - I'll take it from here."
Gale could see the sheer audacity of her demand take Dhourn off guard, his initial outburst silenced before it fully formed, "You bloody well-"
But catching himself, the Drow's demeanor shifted to one of deference, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice, "I mean to say, mistress - I have undertaken this research myself, beholden to no house or hold."
Dhourn's voice had dropped to a hesitant murmur, the weight of Tav's dominance pressing down on him. But as Gale watched, Tav leaned in, her voice dripping with feigned reverence and a hint of malice. "Every house is beholden to Lolth - as every..." She paused, deliberately choosing her next word.
is beholden to their betters."

The Drow wizard started to retort, his voice rising in anger, but then he stopped himself, taking a steadying breath before continuing. Any defiance he had crumbled. Anger flashed across his face, but he checked it, reining in his emotions.

After a tense pause, he handed over the shard to Tav.

She curled her fingers around it, mockingly slow, taking it from him with a wicked smile. Gale’s mouth dropped open.

Once the shard was securely in her possession, Tav's eyes locked onto the Drow's with a challenge. With a voice dripping with authority and a touch of malice, she spoke one word, one in Drow that Gale happened to know (don’t ask him how) -

"Harl'il'cik."

She spoke in Common then, and Gale tried to understand the significance of the switch but was too caught up when the bard whispered, " Know your place."

The Drow male hesitated, the weight of the command heavy between them. But after what felt like an eternity, he slowly, begrudgingly, bent his knee to the ground, submitting to her will.

Tav's posture relaxed slightly, her point clearly made. She gestured dismissively, signaling that the conversation was over. The Drow wizard hesitated for a brief moment, lifted his gaze, let it linger on Tav, then scrambled to his feet, turned, and quickly retreated into the depths of the Underdark.

Gale, curious, approached Tav. "What...?" He had too many questions, all dying on the tip of his tongue.

Tav looked at him, her eyes still flashing with the remnants of her anger.

She seemed taken aback when she processed it was Gale in front of her before her lips curled into a sly smile, her eyes gleaming mischievously. "Oh, just some... pleasantries." Her words were dripping with a playful yet guarded tone, making it clear she was dancing around the truth.

An uneasy tension settled over the group, the distant echoes of the Underdark and the low hum of magic the only sounds that filled the void. The dim luminescence from the surrounding fungi cast an ethereal glow, painting their faces in shades of blue and purple.

For a moment, they were all statues - much like the Drow , Gale thought bitterly - frozen in time, each lost in their thoughts, most trying to piece together the puzzle of the recent exchange.

It was Wyll who broke the silence, his voice cutting through the quiet like a knife. "What just happened?" His tone, though attempting levity, held an underlying edge of concern. Tav met his gaze, her expression inscrutable. "And what did you mean by that, Tav? He needed to "know his place’ ?" Even as he jokingly mimicked her voice, his eyes searched hers, looking for answers.

Tav hesitated for a moment, her gaze flitting around the group before settling back on Wyll. She pursed her lips, then shrugged as she spoke, as if it were an obvious answer: "Respect is important between Drow."

As if that cleared that whole interaction up.

"Drow like Minthara?" Wyll prodded, and the rest of them nodded thoughtfully, remembering how the two treated each other back in the Goblin Camp, making snide - extremely hypocritical - comments at each other for how the other person "betrayed Lolth" from the instant they had laid eyes on each other.

Gale remembered how Tav had stripped her naked after murdering her, handing over her armor to Astarion, and making snide comments about the superiority of Drow-made armor, even if was on a heretic’s body. Tav had seemingly not realized the irony in that statement - if the way she bristled under the group’s collective gaze was any indication.

With the memory of Minthara’s naked body, realization dawned on Gale, causing a slight blush to color his cheeks. Oh. Right.

"Minthara was a female."

Tav's smirk met his words - distant from his mouth.

Wyll's confusion was evident. "What's the significance?"

"Within Drow...we have very... our society is distinctly..." Tav continued to search for the right words, the bard at a loss for words... for once.

"Matriarchal?" Gale murmured - offered - almost hesitantly.

This was seemingly the prompt Tav needed to continue, "There's a pronounced hierarchy ."

With a smirk, Astarion, leaning against a nearby rock, chimed in after realizing what had actually taken place: "Ah, so our bard was simply reminding the male of the order of things."

A pause. Then, a slight nod from Tav caused Wyll - who looked like he wasn’t expecting that answer - to clear his throat to rid himself of whatever had lodged there. Tav giggled but then paused for just a moment.

As if she was remembering something.

" Matriarchal, Gale?" Oh. So she had heard him. "Is... that ...the way you would describe it?" Tav asks, testing, and the two spellcasters finally meet each other's gaze.

Her lips are pressed into a thin line, while his creeps into a smile as he begins to reach into the depth of his Underdark studies, "Well...yes! Drow civilization is unmistakably matriarchal," he said in a breath, and he sees that she is fighting the urge to smile, the twitch of her lips betraying her. But he is looking at her eyes, and they are shining.

He must keep going.

"Is it not Lolth, the Spider Queen, that is venerated with near fanaticism by the Drow? Well, most Drow," She smiles, impressed. He felt like running a victory lap. "But you’re not most Drow, are you..." And he says it almost to himself, forgetting her keen ears will pick it up.

They both flush.

"Anyway, it’s Lolth whose doctrines largely shape Drow societal norms." She nods, agreeing, but there is something still...

"One is remiss to forget about your Matron Mothers!" And he relishes the way her eyes continue to light up, and he claims the missing piece. He allows himself to drink in the way her mouth breaks out into a smile she can’t control. He can feel Astarion rolling his eyes, but Gale truly doesn’t care.

"Matron Mothers?" Wyll’s voice is pure curiosity.

Gale hears the roar of the crowd now. He has won.

Tav shakes whatever she is thinking from her head, turning to Wyll and opening her mouth to speak, but Gale beats her to the punch, looking at Wyll with delight for asking the question, cutting Tav off without meaning to. She simply closes her mouth and stares at Gale with hungry eyes that go unnoticed by the mage as he rambles.

"Each prominent House - and there are many in the Drow-led cities; we will visit several while we’re here, I imagine," he drinks in Tav’s rapid nods, her approval, before continuing, "The Houses are led by a Matron Mother. The Matron Mothers are, you know, generally clerics of Lolth and often high priestesses. The point is that they channel the will of Lolth herself," and he realizes at this point (perhaps too late, still) that he’s rambling, but can’t quite stop himself.

"Their authority is both divine and temporal, intertwining religious devotion with political intrigue. They are truly fascinating, you know. And, beyond just the Matron Mothers, all their women hold a unique position," he hears himself continuing, but it’s a him that he can barely control. His voice is soft, entranced. "They are not just figures of authority and strength, but they also exude a captivating elegance."

A pause, then a last murmur from his lips, "We should consider ourselves lucky, truly, to witness such beauty."

Then, a quick clarification: "To be here."

Tav said nothing. The subtext - text, even - was clear, and while Gale may not have spoken her name, everyone present felt the weight of his words and whom they referenced.

And then he realized that Tav was staring at him. Smiling.

A smile that, if he were Astarion, he would call delicious.

A smile that if Wyll saw on any other Drow, the monster hunter would call evil.

A smile that Gale can’t name because that smile is directed at him, and he can’t think of a single adjective, as his mouth dries and he swallows the lump in his throat.

Tav was motionless for a beat, letting Gale's words hover in the air between them.

The torchlight caught the edges of her face as she watched him , the glow accentuating the lines of her cheekbones and casting her eyes in a deep, enigmatic shade. She seemed to absorb every word he said, letting it seep into her.

Then, slowly, she tilted her head, her eyes still locked onto his, her lips curling into a smile - a dangerous, mischievous, and enthralling smile. Finally, she leaned in closer, the gap between them shrinking.

Tav's voice took on a teasing lilt, low and honeyed. "You've clearly done your homework, scholar. If I were in the position to grade, I'd say you're on the verge of top marks. Clearly, what you're striving for. But you’ve earned it."

Gale felt himself flush - but with more than embarrassment that tinged his cheeks. It was something else, pooling dark in his stomach and somewhere even lower that he wanted to push from his mind.

"But remember," she continued, her gaze unwavering, the playful edge to her voice sharpening just a tad, "that's just the tip of the iceberg, especially when it comes to Drow women."

She let a beat pass, allowing the charged silence to underscore her point as her eyes roamed over his figure hungrily .

"There is... so much more lurking beneath the surface."

The argument between Tav and the Drow wizard - and what had truly been said during it - had been on Gale’s mind for the rest of the day.

And finding the scroll was a coincidence.

The scroll Gale found - almost by accident - was buried beneath a pile of assorted items they had scavenged, a chest left behind by Lolth-sworn Drow that Tav had cursed the entire time Astarion spent lockpicking it. It was a simple scroll, aged and worn with time:

"Comprehend Languages"

During his years of study, "Comprehend Languages" had been an invaluable tool for him. He'd used it to decipher many a tome written in languages far beyond his understanding - despite how many he knew - each time feeling that thrill of discovery as foreign words transformed into clear, comprehensible thoughts in his mind.

It was a magic he'd grown fond of, familiar and comforting in its utility.

Each incantation brought with it the intoxicating thrill of unearthing hidden secrets, the words unraveling and dancing into coherence before his very eyes.

It was an old lover, a spark that dulled into a calm blaze, a confidant in his insatiable quest for understanding.

However, this endeavor? This was a leap into the arcane unknown.

The audacious notion of harnessing the spell to penetrate a memory, to unravel a previously half-grasped conversation, was tantalizingly novel.

Merging the boundaries of magic and cognition in a way that felt almost... forbidden.

His pulse quickened, his skin tingling with anticipation. The sensation was electric — that raw, unadulterated excitement of venturing into the unexplored, learning something so tantalizing, fresh, and new . It mirrored the adrenaline he felt when faced with a puzzling manuscript, its mysterious contents waiting to be unveiled.

But this felt even more intimate , more personal.

The orb in his chest thrummed in excitement.

He closed his eyes, opening and closing his palms by his sides before performing the associated somatic component to the spell.

Whispering the incantation, he felt the spell's tendrils wrap around his senses, guiding and amplifying his cognitive abilities. The final words of the chant resonated in the air, and a deluge of clarity washed over him.

It was as if he had been granted a new lens to perceive the world, sharpening the blurry edges of understanding.

It felt exhilarating.

His free hand, the one aloft and keeping him understanding the languages, pressed against the bulge growing in his trousers. He let out a throaty groan, tilting his head back, tendrils of brown hair tumbling behind him.

Emboldened, shuddering, so completely wound-up it hurt, Gale delved deep into the recesses of his mind, nudging the tadpole that nestled there and using it to replay the memory of Tav's fierce confrontation with the Drow wizard.

Phrases that once were indecipherable began to weave into discernible patterns. The tone, the emotion, the very essence of the dialogue; all began to crystallize, painting a picture that was previously out of reach.

"I offer to parlay, and he brings a spectator? Twit. Quite ruined my ambush. Now - you are?"

It’s not a perfect translation, one that misses a lot of nuances - Gale assumes - but he can understand Tav's voice, cold and sharp, as she responds,

"Accustomed to a little more respect from a male."

Gale laughs, shocked.

The Drow wizard's initial bravado seemed to crack. He staggered a step back, his confident posture now sagging, the weight of Tav's reprimand evident. There was a momentary pause where even the ambient sounds of the camp seemed to hush in anticipation. "My apologies... valsharess. "

The shock of the translation jolts Gale out of the memory.

He is fully hard now, pressing against his own stomach with an urgency he hadn’t felt for a long time. He’s not quite sure which aspect of this situation is turning him on the most - the learning what was said, the discovering the information, or what was being said - Tav dominating the Drow in front of her.

He tries to pull the memory of Tav’s reaction to being called mistress back into his head, but all he can conjure are lewd fantasies about what he hopes her reaction would be.

The orb is burning, waiting for his reaction. Its fiery demand waits for a response. He has to force himself back to the reality of the situation - if he lets go, so does it.

With a pause, steadying himself, Gale delved back into the memory, and he sees it, sees where the Drow wizard swallowed hard, trying to salvage his dented pride. Taking a deep breath, he introduced himself, the words coming out more as a plea for understanding than a proclamation, "I am Dhourn. Third son of House Ba'Tol, first rank evoker, and initiate of Gravenhallow's..."

Tav stood poised, her arms crossed, radiating barely controlled irritation. Yet, Gale noticed a flicker of curiosity dart across her features when Dhourn carefully produced the memory shard from his pocket.

"...oh. Oh no, no, my dear dark GODS BELOW, NO !"

Gale could practically feel the chill in Tav's voice as she responded, "It's fading. Seems you've been frozen like that for a while."

Dhourn's voice conveyed a mix of shock and dawning realization. "Far, far longer than I realized."

The conversation continued, Dhourn's words painting a tale of rivalry and ambition: "Then my enemies have already found the forge. Which bastard stole my glory - Xargim? Filro?"

Tav's interjection came with a hint of amusement: "Do you speak of the Adamantine Forge? It's still hidden, as far as I know."

But Dhourn, driven solely by his own narrative, went on, "Impossible. My rivals would have stopped at nothing. Unless... hah! The fools must have turned back. Or, better yet, died in the search. Good. If they just surrendered their research to me, we might have found the forge together. But no - they hoarded their knowledge, left each of us clinging to scraps."

Gale could see Tav’s eyes begin to glaze over as Dhourn continued, "I had the good sense to lock mine away in the shard. And now I can claim the forge alone."

Yet, as Gale watched, her response was swift and dismissive, voice dripping with authority.

"You'll claim nothing. Hand over the crystal - I'll take it from here."

Gale could see the sheer audacity of her demand take Dhourn off guard, his initial outburst silenced before it fully formed, "You bloody well-"

But catching himself, the Drow's demeanor shifted to one of deference, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice, "I mean to say, mistress - I have undertaken this research myself, beholden to no house or hold."

Dhourn's voice had dropped to a hesitant murmur, the weight of Tav's dominance pressing down on him. But as Gale watched, Tav leaned in, her voice dripping with feigned reverence and a hint of malice. "Every house is beholden to Lolth - as every..." She paused, deliberately choosing her next word.

is beholden to their betters."