Basic Information Name: Kara von Helvete Aliases: Kara, 'You there, put more clothes on' Race: Daemonfey Age: 125 Profession: One of the captains of the Reforged Blades, body piercer, demonologist Languages: Common, Undercommon, Abyssal, Draconic, Dwarven, Drow, formal Rashmeni Accent: It's pretty obvious she lived most of her life in Icewind Dale
Physical Information Height: Barely cresting five feet Weight: Not very Body build: Slender with the judicial application of curves, leathery batlike wings, a prehensile tail, and stubby little demon horns. Skin type: Smooth and supple. Hair style: Long, not quite straight, not quite curly, and definitely wit a mind of its own. Scars: The letters AvH carved into her lower back Tattoos: A nine tailed whip at the nape of her neck and a wolf on the back of either shoulder, one chasing the sun, the other chasing the moon. Closer inspection would reveal one to be male and the other female. Colouring:
[b]Hair:[/b] Snowy white [b]Eyes:[/b] Green, prone to giving off a light of their own when in the throes of some intense emotion. [b]Skin:[/b]A dark ashen rose [/li]
Mental Information Alignment: Mostly neutral with some malevolent overtones. Philosophy: Among all places, races, people, creeds and cultures there are individuals worth getting to know. There are also about ten times that amount of people who have been blighted with terminal stupidity and must be avoided or destroyed. Deity/Beliefs: Loviatar - Pain is inevitable and therefore it makes more sense to embrace it and let it fuel you, whether it be through enduring it or inflicting it. Personality:Sensible, courteous, casually smutty, until provoked to breaking point at which point the gloves come off.
Additional Information Gear: High heeled boots Jewelry: A variety of rings in her ears, navel, and a few more intimate piercings, a blood pearl necklace. Habbits/hobbies: Drinking, reading, loitering with intent of finding interesting conversation, tormenting innocent young men. General Health: Pretty healthy aside from the occasional hangover Favorite Drink: Abyssal blood wine Weaknesses: Abyssal alcohol, her twin brother, attractive inexperienced men, chocolate covered cherries.
Basic Information Name: Hrist von Helvete Aliases: *cold murderous silence* Gender: Female Race: Daemonfey Age: Several centuries Profession: Lich Languages: Common, Undercommon, Drow, Abyssal, Infernal, Rashmeni, Celestial Accent: Very faint Rashmeni
Physical Information Height: 5ft 6in Weight: *silent deathly stare* Body build: Slender, willowy, on the cusp of boney. No obvious Abyssal traits. Skin type: Smooth and as cold as the grave Hair style: Long and smooth Scars: A grafted skeletal arm Tattoos: Three scythe wielding skeletons gazing expectantly at a portal opened to a swirling void of pure blackness that takes up the entirety of her back. Colouring:
[b]Hair:[/b] Black [b]Eyes:[/b] Green [b]Skin:[/b] Porcelain white [/li]
Mental Information Alignment: Hatefully neutral Philosophy: Life is wasted on the living who squander it with their hollow, petty ambitions, squandering their intellects and worthwhile talents. Deity/Beliefs: Graz'zt Personality:
Secretive Unsettlingly quiet Cold Hateful [/li]
Additional Information Gear: A black staff, a series of complicated interlocking pieces of leather and metal over her left arm. Jewelry: None Habits/hobbies: Formerly a wine connoisseur, less so now with the absence of working taste buds. Research. General Health: Dead Favorite Drink: N/A Weaknesses: Her arrogance and loathing for most other living beings.
Virulent green eyes snapped open and glared accusingly at what turned out to be a high, mouldering stone ceiling. Seconds later this was then followed by a stabbing pain just behind those bleary eyes, causing them to snap shut again, remaining closed until a scent wafted just under the half-fiendÂ’s noseÂ…
‘... coffee?’ was the first coherent though to go through Kara's mind, followed in quick succession by ‘why am I lying on a stone slab?’ and ‘formaldehyde?’
She jerked herself up into a sitting position and opened her eyes as she simultaneously reached down towards her boot for her dagger, ignoring the disorientating pain in her head, ready to.... be handed a mug of black coffee from a tall, willowy figure wearing dressed in grey and black, her face swathed in the shadows of her black hood. Hungover and stunned, Kara gaped at the woman and mutely accepted the drink, gulping half of it down before regaining the ability to speak.
“Mother?”
“Girl.” The figure replied in the deathly cold whisper that passed for her voice. In spite of the actual low volume of her words, something about them carried a formidable power that didn't so much resonate in one's ears but in one's mind.
“Why am I in… a morgue?” Her location finally dawned on her as she recognised the apparel of several Dustmen. Beside her was, for no apparent reason, a skull. She picked it up and stared at it in confusion.
“You were intoxicated. You followed an ambulatory skeleton here believing it to be Malvern, the somehow acquired that skull, proclaimed it to be your very own mimic and staggered around whole holding it above you making juvenile noises to emphasise its airborne nature. After which you proceeded to crawl onto that slab and pass out, but not before you called the skull Anvindr, kissed it, then berated it for refusing to reciprocate the gesture of affection. Truly, girl, there are days where I despair and outright wonder how it is you've survived as long as you have.” Hrist, Kara’s technically dead mother, spoke with emotional inflection so slight that only a childhood and adolescence that had spanned decades in the necromancer’s so-called care allowed Kara to discern just how irritated Hrist was.
“And you are here because… why? I mean, aside from the obvious.” Still holding her coffee, Kara laced her tail through the skull’s eye sockets and raised it, shaking it in Hrist’s direction.
“My primary work may be complete but that does not mean the avenues opened to me by a lifetime of research should be abandoned.”
“Ah. Of course. Complete.” Kara squinted slightly as she attempted to look into the depths of the woman's hood. After a moment her mother drew back the cowl and stared back at Kara with an expression that was as unreadable as it always had been.
It was the same face that Kara had known for over a century. Features similar to her own regarded her, though there was a sharp, angular quality to them that stopped Hrist from ever having been regarded as anything more than ‘striking’ when compared to Kara's undeniable beauty. While her daughter's mixture of drow and Abyssal ancestry was all too obvious, Hrist looked no different from any other moon elf, superficially at least. Long black hair cascaded elegantly down her back, and her complexion had always been pale to the point of making a white marble statue look well-tanned beside her.
It was the eyes that gave it away. Even in life they had blazed with a dreadful intensity. Now dead at the hand of her own father and in the process having ascended to her long sought after existence as a lich, HristÂ’s eyes glowed like hateful green lanterns. Even with a familiarity borne of being this creature's child, Kara could not stand to look at them.
Fortunately a distraction manifested itself in the form of a furry missile leaping up and barrelling into Kara with a growling purr. In spite of nearly having lost her grip on her coffee and the sudden impact exacerbating her pounding headache, Kara snickered. “Hello Nergal, you furry little bastard.”
Her mother's familiar affected a feline grin at Kara, revealing a jaw filled with ivory needles that bore no resemblance to the average house cat's set of teeth. “Little Mistress. Always a delight, especially when you're wearing such a decadently low-cut top…”
“Still a furry little pervert then. Never change.” Kara picked the cat up and hugged it. He nuzzled his head under her chin, purring louder than ever.
“So I hear you are now some sort of mercenary,” Hrist remarked. “An interesting variation from slavery and prostitution… though arguably there are many parallels with the latter.”
Kara dropped the cat into her lap. “Oh for fu…” Her irritation flared. “Seriously? You're having a go at me for actually trying to get on my feet and make a half-decent life in between juggling all the other aggravations that are part and parcel of who I happen to be related to? I mean, half the reason I came here was to get away from you and that bastard who wants to hollow out ‘Vindr’s body, but here you are. Giving me grief.”
“And coffee,” added the familiar, kneading Kara's thighs with his razor claws.
“ody of its soul so he can wear him like a really unpleasant coat.” Her lips curled into a sour expression while the demonic cat went to work, affectionately kneading Kara’s thighs with his needle-like claws.
If Kara’s words had any effect on Hrist, it was not evident at all in the necromancer’s tone. “The aforementioned bastard will not be troubling us for some time. He is presently subject to an Imprisonment spell launched at the moment he chose to put my vitality to an end.”
Kara shifted Nergal in her lap, old habits compelling her to scratch the nefarious feline under his chin, in turn causing him to purr at an alarming volume. “So, what, I can go home? Only there’s some stuff happening where it’d be good if I can get to Icewind Dale…” There was tentative optimism in Kara’s voice though it swiftly dissipated as both the cat and Hrist glanced at each other and Nergal’s purring abruptly stopped.
“I would advise against it, girl. He may be imprisoned. His minions, however, will be working tirelessly to find him, release him, and ensure his will be done. Exploiting you as a hostage to try and force my hand and reveal his location would be less than ideal. For you.”
It didn’t take long for the implications to sink in. Kara fixed her mother with a baleful stare. “I love hearing how I’m nothing but an expendable ‘asset,’ Mother.”
“Your status as any kind of ‘asset’ as you put it is deeply questionable, girl. If you wish to risk your life in some questionable fashion to please your little friends or whatever it is that motivates you, then your death and that of any others you purport to care about will be entirely your own doing.” Still Hrist’s voice remained unchanged, though for a moment her own eyes flared in what could be construed as warning… though most likely it was irritation.
The young daemonfey ransacked her mind for any sort of convincing retort but knew she was defeated even before she started. There was no arguing with Hrist as far as pragmatism was concerned, and the fact she was still here and… well, if not strictly alive then at least enjoying a continued ‘existence’ was indication enough that she was usually correct. Instead, Kara opted for a change of topic. She held out her coffee mug towards the cowled figure after picking a cat hair off the rim. “Refill?”
Wordlessly, Hrist produced a flask from a bag and poured some coffee into the proffered mug. Kara nodded in silent thanks and swallowed a gulp.
“Have you sourced the books in that list I gave the boy to pass on to you?” inquired Hrist after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. Kara gave another nod.
“Aye. It’ll take some time but… I think I can crack the geas without killing ‘Vindr or needing to kill Aarseth myself and…” Kara stopped, furrowing her brow. “Why am I telling you this and more pertinently, why do you care? In fact, why don’t you just sort it out yourself? He’s your son after all!”
“And it is a project you have chosen to undertake of your own free will. I will concede I am pleased to see you utilizing your talents for something other than playing shopkeeper as you peddle flesh or whatever other mundane jobs take your addled fancy.”
Kara threw her head back and uttered a groan of frustration, eyes shut tight for a few moments as she took a deep breath. Opening them once more, she straightened her head to face her mother straight on. “Or perhaps I’ll just take a vial of my blood to the Temple of the Abyss, find out once and for all what fathered me, what that ancestry is, and petition that side of my family to sort out Anvindr and be rid of you and your father once and for all!” She tried to keep her voice cold and steady, but she couldn’t manage to keep the rage out of her words, practically spitting venom by the end.
Again, calm, impassive and unreadable, Hrist remained visibly unmoved, though her eyes did at last glance not to her daughter but to the familiar curled up in the girlÂ’s lap. Nergal gazed back at her with slitted eyes before letting out a faint growly purr.
“Perhaps you should explain things if she’s so very desperate to seek out answers from sources we cannot vouch for. Would Little Mistress appreciate that?” Nergal opened his eyes further and sat up, staring at Kara with his dreadful maw spread in a grin. “Yes, I think she would.”
“Likely it’ll go to her head.” Remarked Hrist, studying Kara who was still visibly seething.
“I am right here, you know.”
It was Nergal who replied. “We know, Little Mistress. Though you should by now know better than to bandy about notions which involve being so liberal with your blood. Aarseth has spies in many quarters. He suspects what you are though he has no proof.” He purred, butting his head just under Kara's breasts with a self-satisfied look.
“And that would be… what, exactly, some secret weapon who needs to be sacrificed at the right time to ensure His downfall? Well, I suppose it's better than my other theory where I'm your living phlyactery,” retorted Kara, unable to keep the adolescent peevishness out of her voice.
This actually succeeded in drawing a sniff from Hrist, which for her was a sign of utmost disdain. “Where do these notions spring from, girl? As if I would ever entrust my soul to another living being. No, girl. Your existence and that of the boy's are a result of an agreement struck with forces opposed to those which my father is bound to.”
“So, what, we were conceived out of spite?” Kara petted the cat, the flippancy more reflexive than deliberate.
“There are worse reasons to bring forth progeny, Little Mistress, but no. In this case you and the mouthy boy are a result of a bargain with my true Master. A bargain made in blood centuries before your birth.” Nergal hopped off of Kara’s lap, stretched, yawned, then dropped onto the cold slab and rolled onto his back, looking most undignified. Kara stared at him then at Hrist for some kind of confirmation.
The cowled woman nodded once briefly, then glanced around the room. Nobody was nearby, most choosing to give the strange sight of the three a wide berth. All the same, Hrist’s whisper grew quieter still. “It was shortly after I received my familiar.” The green light of her eyes flicked briefly to Nergal who was still on his back as if hoping to lure some fool into rubbing his tempting feline belly so he could quite literally chew their hand off for a nourishing snack. So far there were no takers. “I had a sister…” continued Hrist.
“You had several unless that was a lie or I'm misremembering…” muttered Kara, still in the throes of sullen adolescent regression in her mother's presence.
“Do you wish to hear this or not, girl?” Hrist’s question was met with some wordless but affirmative grumble. “I shall interpret that as a yes, then, and put your tedious attitude down to the consequences of last night's inebriation. Anyway. I had a sister, the only of the three I liked. My younger one. She was bright. She was, I suppose, a friend of sorts, as much as childhood relationships have any meaning. And one day… she vanished. She just… was not there. My other two sisters knew nothing and were more concerned with the drama of it all than Sigrid’s disappearance. Our mother would not stop weeping, but the woman was already half insane by then so she spent many days veering between extremes. I was fairly confident my father had something to do with it but I knew better than to ask him.”
Kara listened, wide eyed as much from the rare frankness from Hrist as much as the tale itself, almost afraid to speak in case doing so broke whatever spell that had gripped her mother. She pulled her knees up, hugging them to herself, mug still clutched in her hands.
After a few moments of breathless silence, Hrist continued. “That was the first time Nergal chose to speak to me. That night he told me where to find her body. Down in the basement, drained of blood, every inch of her flesh carved with eldritch runes. She had been dedicated and sacrificed to Demogoron, your grandfather's patron. It was one of his glabrezu that fathered Aarseth and so your grandfather has been working as his agent of Abeir-Toril, going where his patron and his Abyssal minions cannot.”
“So… how'd the furry shit-head come into it?” Kara finally asked as Hrist paused again, looking at Nergal. She reached out and prodded his belly, jerking her hand back just in time as he swiped at her with a forepaw.
“It's moderately humiliating,” he rumbled. “Once, I was a proper, proud tanar’ri fiend. I had a harem of succubi, minions of my own, I was the downfall of many a celestial and devil alike… admittedly all claims many of my brethren could claim, but still. It was a satisfying existence… until your bastard grandfather summoned me.”
“Why?”
“To interrogate me, obviously,” sniffed Nergal indignantly. “To bring me before Demogoron’s representatives and force me to betray what secrets of Azzagrat and Zelatar I was privy to. So as soon as I felt myself being wrenched to the Prime, I did what I could in my limited time. I changed into the shape you see before you now. Needless to say your grandfather was far from amused.”
Kara found it impossible to stop herself from snickering as Nergal continued.
“I had hoped he would have banished me and tried again with another demon, ideally one of my rivals, but no. He gave me to the only of his four daughters who had shown any aptitude for dark magics.” He finally rolled onto his front again and sat up, looking intently and almost affectionately at Hrist.
“I suspect my father expected one of us to kill the other.” Hrist stepped forward and laid her right hand on Nergal’s head.
“Almost certainly. Still. You practically stank of the grave, even then. Children, even half-fiend children rarely have the intensity and intellectual acumen I was met with when I was thrust into your arms while you were told to claim me as your familiar lest I claim you. It was certainly the best outcome of a bad situation.” The tanar’ri feline rubbed up against Hrist’s hand, tail flicking in pleasure at the attention.
“And you've been best friends ever since. That sounds almost as twee as one of those stories about a boy and his dog.”
“The youth of today. No appreciation for fine storytelling,” countered Nergal mockingly.
Hrist then picked up the tale. “After I found Sigrid, I returned to my quarters, enraged. I didn't dare speak of this to anyone except Nergal. There was little I could do. But I did vow to one day make him pay. It was then that Nergal began to explain who he really was and made a deeply compelling argument with regards to allying myself with his Master. Both for our own security and so one day we could strike a blow against your grandfather. So it was settled. Through Nergal as my intermediary and advocate I pledged my service to Graz’zt to work against our mutual enemies as best I could.”
Another few moments passed as Kara stared at her mother in angry disbelief. “You spent my whole life going on about Velsharoon! And self reliance beyond the reach of meddling gods! And all that other crap! And now you're a bloody lich! How the hells does that fit in with serving the Abyss if you're stuffing your soul in some kind of tube or gods know whatever as the ultimate get-out clause to avoid an actual death?”
“Quiet, girl. Leave the dramatics to your brother. While the time for my secrecy over this matter is now past I see little reason you need to get so irrationally emotional about it. I reiterate. Secrecy was imperative. While certain acts of arrogance and consequent short-sightedness on your grandfather's part allowed for such foolish acts as letting Nergal become my familiar he is not a stupid being. He would not have lived as long if he were.”
That did little to placate the young fey-ri. “And you're still skirting around the whole point of me still being here! What. IS. My. FATHER?” Exquisite features twisted into a hideous mask of rage, her own green eyes giving off an eerie incandescent glow
“I would have expected you to have worked that out for yourself by now, girl.” Again, that infuriating calm dispassionate whisper, though was there a hint of amusement under it? Kara gritted her teeth, reminding herself to keep her fury in check, to save it for later, preferably to be used on some hapless masochistic plaything. Or Anvindr.
“I would like to hear you say it. No half truths or incomplete tantalising fragments.”
“Very well. Your father is one of Graz’zt’s bastards. Not one of the notorious ones I hasten to add before you start lording it over the other half-breeds.” And there it was. An answer to that question that had been eating away at Kara for years now. Hrist continued. “And before you start on at me again, yes. He is half drow, and yes, he is a slave trader, as I told you decades ago. I knew him as Kelzaer, though it is deeply unlikely this is his actual name.”
“Hang on… shouldn't I have six of these?” Kara held up a hand and wiggled her fingers. Her mother's surprisingly frank explanation had done little to dispel her suspicions of the woman. “And what, there's some kind of Azzagrat breeding program that just happened to pair you up with this… ‘Kelzaer’ individual?”
Nergal took over again. “The Dark Prince has innumerable schemes and plans. Is seeing that his more promising bastards produce potentially promising children so hard to believe? Though for the most part he does leave them to their own devices. There are too many to count, the great gift of their fatherhood wasted on them, though I suppose there is enough competition for my Master's favour as it stands. And as for your fingers… well, it wouldn't very well do to flaunt such an obvious talisman of your ancestry, now would it? Though give it a few centuries. Who knows what else you'll have sprouted by then aside from those endearing stubby little horns.”
“Indeed. Do not think yourself special, girl,” uttered Hrist. “There are many of your ilk, and many of them far wiser than you when it comes to utilizing their gifts. Ultimately, the original plan was to produce a specimen of male progeny to offer to Aarseth to house his soul when he finally wears out his present one. Even if Anvindr’s soul had proved weaker, his flesh would still have the mark of Azzagrat on it. It would be impossible for him to hide, and liable to drive him to madness. Though it would appear the boy had more will to survive than initially expected of him.”
Fury surged through Kara like never before. “YOU MEAN YOU WERE JUST AS MUCH A PART OF THE PLOT TO ROB ANVINDR OF HIS BODY AS YOUR FATHER?!”
A few heads turned among the handful of Dustmen on the periphery of the room, though almost as one they decided it was in their interest to not be involved with whatever was occurring and the all quickly looked away, busying themselves with their tasks.
“Girl!” hissed the lich. “Calm yourself. I would go as far as to say be glad you exist. Twins were never part of the plan, though some things are beyond the Dark Prince's control. The boy was always intended to be a sacrifice to strike a blow against Demogoron’s pawn though I cannot help but commend Anvindr’s resilience and resourcefulness even if it has… complicated matters. As have you by assisting the boy.”
“And I would do it again and again without question.” Her rage had burned itself into something white hot, eyes burning as an arcane aura of searing heat rose from the daemonfey. “He is MINE.” A jar on a nearby shelf containing some long-dead being's lungs shattered, the preserved organs landing on the floor with a splat. “Not YOUR pawn, not that BASTARD’S ticket to another thousand years of life…” The girl's wrath had began to transform into raw, sorcerous arcane energy. Nergal, being nearest took this as his cue to casually slink off the table and behind Hrist with what appeared to be only the most superficial of feline concern, though his expression was one who was all too familiar with these potentially and, quite literally, explosive rages.
“I do not think your little mercenary friends would be too pleased if you blew up a faction’s headquarters.” Hrist left her statement at that and watched her daughter wordlessly as the girl’s eyes smouldered for a moment more and then began to dim as the fury started to wane. Only then did Hrist continue. “We are all someone's pawn, girl. Us in particular, neither demon nor mortal but something that hovers between the two. At least I have made a choice in allying myself with a being who is more intelligent and methodical than any other denizen of the Abyss, and more flexible and versatile than the gaggle of fallen angels who rule the Hells.”
Kara sullenly mulled this over as she fought to keep her anger in check. As usual, there it was, that infuriating rationality that was so hard to reason against. Nergal hazarded a glance around HristÂ’s skirt, then emerged in his entirety.
“You've a lot of potential, Little Mistress. And the boy too, I'm willing to concede. If you survive the long centuries ahead of you both then your lineage may prove to be most useful to ensure your continued survival and prosperity. Certainly in this existence and maybe even in the next...”
“I'd rather work out what's what for myself, Nergal.” Kara struggled and mostly won against the residual anger threatening to make her voice waver. The cat nodded.
“That is good. Then in time you will see sense, and Graz’zt will still be there. You will see.” Nergal settled himself on the floor by Hrist’s feet, tucking his paws under him. In spite of a lifetime of being surrounded by undeath and the knowledge of tanar’ri blood coursing through her veins, something about Nergal’s certainty made the usually feisty Kara shudder in dread… and something else - a sad helplessness as it became seemingly more and more apparent she and her brother would never entirely be able to escape what they were, and yet by embracing it in its entirety all that would be gained was an eternity of constant rivalry against their nameless and unnumbered half-breed kin. A desperate, ruthless struggle for the merest scraps of recognition, liable to culminate in an end as nothing more than the plaything of a true demon who had won the favour of the Dark Prince.
Her mother's voice snapped Kara out of her thoughts. “As I have said to the boy often enough, both of you would do well to abandon this ridiculous infatuation you have with each other before it is used against you both. If you wish to survive, harden your heart, girl. Anvindr was written off long ago. Work to remove his geas if you must, but remember the price of sentimentality is all too often an untimely death…”
The almost forgotten mug of coffee was flying through the air before Kara was even aware she had flung it. It sailed over the short distance between herself and Hrist, hitting the cowled womanÂ’s forehead and shattering. Nergal let out an indignant hiss as he was abruptly showered in cold coffee and ceramic shards. Hrist, however, did not move or appear in any way affected aside from the coffee dripping off of her.
An awkward silence settled over the trio until it was broken not by words but by the sound of Kara's boots hitting the ground as she slid off the slab and stalked out of the morgue.
“That could have gone better,” commented Nergal, starting to groom himself aggressively.
“The girl always did have that sentimental streak. Still, she does her best work when she thinks she is doing so to spite me. She should free the boy soon enough of the inconveniences placed upon him by Aarseth.”
“You think the two of them will be enough to tip the balance and rid us of Aarseth once and for all?”
A moment passed before Hrist nodded. “Not yet, but soon. If they don't get themselves killed. I think I shall send Malvern to watch over the girl. I've invested enough time and effort in her that her dying before she can assist in destroying my father would be a considerable nuisance.”
“And after that?” inquired Nergal as Hrist picked him up and let him leap onto her shoulder.
Hrist turned and walked with silent fluidity towards the exit. “And after that? It will be entirely up to them.” The door closed behind them and the cat and lich soon disappeared into the maze of squalor that was The Hive.
