The Pale Drow (Isanien, pt. 6)

*A parchment is tucked in between the pages, the script written in a more formal High Drow, it flows with grace, menace and nobility.*

The Pale Drow
She arrived as a ghost in the night,
skin as pale as the moon.
She bore on her forehead
a blood red spider,
marked by Lolth,
stark red against ivory.

She spoke words of doom,
but none had ears to hear.
She was shunned and hated,
but also feared.
None dare lay a hand upon her,
but neither did they offer
food or shelter.
She was Pariah…
and in her wake catastrophe came.

The earth shook and caverns fell.
Dozens were trapped.
Pestilence followed.
Young and old alike grew sick and weak.

The earth shook and the floors split wide.
Terrors from deeper below poured forth.
Blood flowed and screams filled the dark.
In caverns across the realm
the living were crowded out by the dead and dying.

The Drow cried out,
“Lolth! Lolth! Why have you forsaken us?”
They made their sacrifices,
but there was no reply.
Save for their screams and cries
the caverns were otherwise silent.

And yet untouched,
The Pale Drow passed through.
She beckoned others to follow.
Some stood as she walked by,
and fewer still stepped forward.
The Pale Drow did not look back,
but set a steady pace.
Up and up. Always Up.
The path was treacherous
and of those that followed
many fell along the way…

*the passage ends, obviously incomplete*

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