Valas supposed that was the secret of her survival. Mean as she was, the drow who lived there called her home and fought like demons to preserve her. He stared at Narbondel, glowing red in the darkness, signaling another day.
Another day of violence, infighting, murder, and betrayal.
Lolth and the city deserved each other, he decided, and smiled.
With nothing else for it, he turned, melted into the shadows, and headed away from the city for his next mission.
Inthracis the Fifth opened his eyes. Nisviim stood over him, the jackal-faced arcanaloth's expression slack and distant. Without a word, Nisviim turned and exited the chamber.
Inthracis lay there, his new mind racing. He had failed. His last memories were of searing pain. The drow mage had captured and incinerated him with a clever combination of spells.
Inthracis resolved to remember the tactic so that he might use it himself one day.
He presumed that Lolth's Yor'thae had reached the Spider Queen. He did not know which of the three priestesses had been the Chosen One, and he did not care. He cared only about the possibility of facing Vhaeraun's wrath. If the Masked Lord discovered that Inthracis lived again.
.
He pushed such thoughts from his mind.
He would simply have to hope that Lolth's wrath with her son would keep Vhaeraun occupied long enough that the Masked God would forget about Inthracis. Meanwhile, the ultroloth would stay in the background for a few decades and allow Nisviim to take a more active hand in the affairs of Corpsehaven.
He sat up, reveling in the feel of his new body. For a moment, he wondered if Lolth too was adorned in new flesh.
He put that thought from his mind, too. He'd had enough of gods and goddesses to last him a long while.
