From Slave to Master, a tale of Dark Progress. (Cel'daren)

[Cel'Daren]

*A little black book, its appearance simple, but warded with Nondetection and Illusory Script spells to keep prying eyes from finding it and exploiting the information within.*

First Page:

*This script is written in a clear firm hand, but not quite elegant or flowing. It is written in the Drow dialect in Elven writing.*

For all the years of my short memory, at least by the measure of Drow, I had been the slave of House Torduis'lyl (meaning Mistresses of the Whip and Blade) who were a Noble House within Menzoberranzan. As one might guess from their name they were well-known as capable slavers, keeping some of the most exotic for their own amusement and prestige. I was one such slave, taken as the sole remaining member of my own House and spoils of war over that House as well as a message to any of the Torduis'lyl's enemies what could happen to them.

I am told that my mother was a half-Drow; the result of a Drow assault on a human male who was more cunning than my grandmother had thought possible of a human. My father was the husband of the Mistress of the House, who would never be willing to let a Half-Drow Shebali into the family. Fortunately for my existence my mother was the epitome of Drow cunning, and had disposed of my father's mate and took my father anyway, taking control of the House and leading it with great success for three decades. It was then that I was conceived, while at the same time they became embroiled in conflict with another small house. It took four years for my mother to conquer this other minor house, and the conflict rose our House into the Nobility.

Yet this was a mistake, for House Torduis'lyl had a vested interest in both Houses, and when one conquered the other their plans had been ruined. In retribution for the slight House Torduis'lyl annihilated my family and took me, at a mere four years old, as an exotic slave. I was beaten often for the slightest failure, or merely for their amusement, and even the other slaves hated me for having the appearance of their own oppressors and spurned me. I had no ally save for a whisper in the darkness when I hid from everyone else, a voice that comforted me by filling my mind with images of my enemies cast down and destroyed. The Whisper in the dark comforted me and kept my sanity whole, allowing me to seize upon every opportunity that arose.

The occurrences that can change one's path in life, their very destiny, are astounding in their abundance and seeming randomness. How many tiny chances had it taken to end in my freedom, I wonder? The opportunities that came to me were very few, but they were always given to me by the tiniest thread. The House Mage died in conflict with another House in our own laboratory, and among the few books that had not been incinerated by the battle was a few pages of a basic magic treatise. They were discovered merely two days later, and I was whipped to within an inch of my life for having them, but by that time I had already copied the pages through simple mimicry of the shapes I saw, and kept the copies well-hidden. Three years later a careless slave tipped over a brazier starting a fire in the Library. I had managed to steal a reading primer for Elvish script in the confusion, and it was thought lost in the fire. The slave was whipped to death, and I had the satisfaction to know it was because I had accidentally dropped an expensive book into the fire as I ran with my own prize. Sadly every other slave was whipped for the deed as well.

Even more strange coincidences happened that brought me one step closer to freedom while at the same time costing me more pain and suffering at the hands of my masters. The greatest was the event that caused me to be taken on a trade venture to Sshamath. No less than twenty-eight other slaves all befell some kind of accident within the month prior to the planned venture that made them unfit for travel. Twisted ankles, broken legs, concussions, one was even eaten by a trained Bebilith. Of course I was suspect for such mishaps, as the chance to go to Sshamath was a reprieve from the attentions of the Mistress of the House and being put under the command of her much less sadistic son and daughter for a time. I was beaten at least a dozen times for that reason alone, but finally I was allowed to go, as I was one of the slaves in best condition to handle the Riding Lizards.

With the Elven writing primer I had gotten a hold of years before, and the few pages on magical theory before that, and a lot of time between then and the trip to Sshamath to experiment and learn more of what I was dealing with, I was finally equipped to grasp freedom. In Sshamath races that can perform Arcane magic were not to be enslaved, even though outsiders could bring their slaves of those races into the city. Yet there were limits to that, for any slave that could perform arcane magic, no matter their race, would be considered free and given lodgings in the Darkwood section of the city. Luckily for me learning to simply cast an Ray of Frost spell was enough to convince the city guard.

I finally had my freedom! Yet more challenges approached me, perhaps the greatest being that without masters to tell me what to do, I couldn't choose what to do...

Almost Out of ink, will write more later.