"Enter."
The iron door swung open, and a drow warrior strode halfway across the dimly-lit chamber before obediently dropping to a knee. "Priestess Varassa, your scouts have returned from their raid upon the surface."
Sighing in annoyance, Varassa set down her stylus and glared at her quivering supplicant. "Do you think me deaf, male? I heard the palisade gate open, and your men tromped through the camp like a band of ogres. Perhaps you should tell me something I don't know before I have your skin flensed off."
"I...I apologize, priestess," the male blubbered. "I am not worthy of your presence."
"Yet again you tell me something I already know," Varassa muttered. She rarely bothered to learn the names or faces of the male warriors assigned to her by the Matron Mother, but this idiot was clearly from the newest batch of reinforcements. At this rate, he wasn't going to survive a week. "Last chance."
"The scouts didn't discover any signs of enemy encampments, priestess, but they did capture two surfacers near one of the ancient temples in the hills."
Varassa cocked one of her white eyebrows. Now that was actual news. In the three months since the Matron Mother had ordered the construction of this outpost, the most interesting thing Varassa and her regiment had discovered was a previously unknown exit to the surface just a few miles away. Initially, she had hoped her warriors would find a village to raid—or at the very least some new captives to amuse her—but thus far they hadn't discovered anything besides empty fields and forests.
"Who are these captives?" she demanded. "Are they anyone of importance?"
"Not as far as we can tell," the warrior said. "One is a human male, and the other is a half-breed female. We caught them copulating inside the temple ruins."
Varassa laughed. Of course, that made perfect sense: the ancient temple was dedicated to some long-dead god of family or matrimony or some other surface nonsense. The fools had probably decided to mate there in the hopes of being blessed...or perhaps they were simply adventurous. Either way, this was the most promising turn of events in recent memory.
"You've already moved them into the dungeon, I trust?"
"Yes, mistress. The scout commander awaits you there."
"Excellent," Varassa said, standing. "You are dismissed, male. Inform your commander that I shall meet with him shortly."
The warrior departed with a crisp nod, and Varassa strode over to the nearby equipment rack. She rarely bothered wearing her armor while in camp, but today she decided to make an exception. The prisoners were likely terrified already—the fearsome reputation of the drow had spread far and wide across the surface—but she wanted to ensure they knew precisely who was in charge here.
With practiced ease, she slipped out of her priestly vestments and strapped on her adamantine breastplate and matching chain skirt. Like all drow-forged metal, the armor was both supple and resilient...though given the power of the magic at her command, it was also largely redundant. A true servant of the Spider Queen didn't need to rely on mere metal to protect her, and as a result Varassa had designed the pieces more for form than for function: the low-cut breastplate hugged her gray-blue skin in all the right places, and she'd cut out a tiny section around her navel in order to proudly display her spider-shaped tattoo. The chain links of her skirt ended halfway down her thigh, and her knee-high boots were a weapon unto themselves. The six-inch heels allowed her to tower over the males sworn into her service.
Once she was certain all the straps and buckles were properly secured, Varassa tied her long white hair up into a ponytail and then sauntered out into the base camp. As usual, her underlings kept their distance. She was in charge of nearly a hundred warriors and wizards, and all of them knew better than to impede her progress for even an instant. Thankfully, the trip only took a few minutes, and the lone guard outside the dungeon opened the gate for her without a single word.
Varassa spiraled down the staircase, and the whispers of conversation below immediately cut off at the sound of her heels clicking against the stone. The dungeon area wasn't particularly large—her wizards had shaped the entire sixty-by-sixty area with their magic in less than a day—and they hadn't bothered with any individual cells. An empty rack and pillory rested just inside the room along with a single bed and table. Three of her warriors waited within, and they'd already bound and gagged the captives.
"Hail, priestess," the scout commander said with a half bow. "I bring you gifts from the surface."
Varassa smiled and nodded. The human male was young, perhaps twenty seasons at most, and his rusty brown hair and matching eyes made him look even younger. He was clearly in excellent physical condition, however, and his thick arms and broad chest were impressive. He was also a full head taller than her warriors, which Varassa found particularly amusing.
The female was a niskaru, a mixed-blood mongrel of surface elf—darthiir—and human. Still, she seemed to have inherited the best features of both races. Her body was slender but curvaceous, and her blonde hair and green eyes were quite arresting. She might have been a bit older than the male, but it was difficult to tell for certain.
Yes, Varassa thought to herself, this was indeed going to be fun.
"Kneel before your mistress, worms," the scout commander ordered in the surface tongue. He pushed both prisoners to their knees, then switch back to the drow language. "The male was carrying a sword, but the female was unarmed. We did find a small pouch of spell components hidden inside her belongings, however."
"A fledgling wizardess, then," Varassa commented. "Interesting. She doesn't look particularly bright, but perhaps that is simply her darthiir blood peeking through."
The woman didn't react. She probably didn't evenspeak the drow tongue and had no way of discerning a random word from a racial slur. But that was all right. By the time this was over, Varassa would teach this pathetic half-breed slut everything she needed to know...
"Our initial interrogations revealed little of interest," the scout commander said. "They seem like worthless villagers, but we assumed you would wish to probe their minds yourself."
"How very wise of you, male," Varassa said approvingly. "I reward those who demonstrate competence and loyalty."
She stepped in closer and eyed each of the prisoners up and down. Burdened by their weak eyesight, they probably couldn't even see most of the chamber—the lone glow-stone against the far wall was barely as strong as a candle—but it was vital that they look upon their new mistress.
"Still, I doubt they know anything of use," she went on. "They are likely just foolish children who made the mistake of leaving the safety of their homes."
One of the other warriors drew his knife, which instantly elicited a panicked yelp from the female. He grabbed her chin and placed the blade at her throat. "Shall I kill them, then, Priestess?"
"No, not yet," Varassa said, raising a hand. She stopped directly in front of the captives and smiled down at them. They might not have understood her words, but judging from their widened eyes, sweaty temples, and trembling muscles, they understood their situation quite clearly. They knew their lives hung in the balance, and they knew Varassa was the one who would decide their fate.
"I have grown bored these last few weeks, and I will give them the opportunity to amuse me," she went on. After glaring down at them with her glowing red eyes for a few more seconds, she eventually nodded towards the warriors. "You may leave—all of you."
The two warriors glanced at each other in confusion, but their commander merely nodded and signaled for the others to follow. He obviously knew better than to question a female's orders, no matter how bizarre they may have seemed—that, or he already knew her particular tastes in dealing with prisoners. Varassa made a mental note to learn his name later. Now, however, it was time for some much needed entertainment.
"I will speak in your disgusting language so that you might understand me," she said in the most common surface tongue. Judging from the shift in their expressions, they recognized her words just fine. "I am Varassa, revered priestess of the Spider Queen and second daughter to the Matron Mother of Vel'shannar. You are now my slaves, and if you wish to survive you will do exactly as I command. Do you understand?"
The male nodded immediately, but the female merely whimpered into her gag. She definitely needed to be taught a lesson, if for no other reason than to stop being such a disgrace to their shared gender.
"Fortunately for you, I am more generous than other drow you may have encountered. I believe in rewarding loyalty...and submission. Obey me, and you will be treated well. Disobey me, and I will feed you to the driders."
