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Quote by R.A. Salvatore

“One snarled at him and lifted a four-headed scourge of living, hissing snakes his way. A second crossed the hands of her outstretched arms before her in the spider symbol, thumbs as pedipalps, eight fingers as legs—a typical casting pose for a Lolthian priestess—while the third dropped a globe of darkness over the group.”

Quote by R.A. Salvatore

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Lolth's Warrior

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R.A. Salvatore

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“And the shadows went away, revealing Sos’Umptu as a drider! But she kept growing, and no, she was not a drider, for she was beautiful, not bloated in abomination. Too beautiful to look upon. Beautiful and terrible all at once, and huge, dwarfing the driders about her, bigger even than the jade spider constructs that had come in from the entry. And Yvonnel understood and knew she was doomed. “Behold!” the creature that had been Sos’Umptu demanded. “I am the avatar of Lolth. Kneel to me. Beg for my mercy.”

“Yvonnel shook her head, not sure if this creature before her was diabolical or rational at that moment. “It did not matter,” the avatar said to her. “Do you not understand? Your actions? The ‘truths’ you learned? They did not matter.” “Then what does matter?” “My pleasure. My chaos. My power. Me. Just me.” “Then what future?” “Who cares?” The avatar laughed at her, and it was sincere, she knew. “You care enough to bless the matrons,” she said. “Do I?” “You care enough to start wars—in the Silver Marches, in Gauntlgrym, in your own City of Spiders!” “The ultimate chaos. War.”

“I do not lie. You know that I do not. You may find wealth in one of these cards. You might find items of great magic. You might find allies of great power, or enemies beyond you. You might find curses or blessings, your greatest wishes, your greatest fears.” “What games do you play?” “I’m not playing this game—you are.” “What is the game, though?” “One that entertains me.” “Fiend.”

“A beautiful drow woman. Too beautiful. Painfully beautiful. It was not an emissary of Lolth, she knew. No, no. It was the image of Lolth herself, reaching out to her from the Abyss. Sos’Umptu fell to her knees, as did every other drow in the Fane of the Goddess. “Many of my handmaidens have come to Menzoberranzan, my city,” Lolth said. Sos’Umptu wanted to look upon her, but dared not lift her gaze. “They brought me here, to you, in full confidence that you would be an acceptable and accepting host.” “I pray you found me acceptable.” “Indeed, Sos’Umptu Baenre. Indeed. Rise now, I command. Look upon me. Let me see the love in your eyes.”

“Tsabrak scoffed at her. “How long have you lived here? Freedom? You are free to do the best you can, based on your loyalty to Lolth and your inner strengths. On your physical, magical, and intellectual prowess. And, of course, your gender. That you, a noble priestess of a powerful house, daughter to one of the ruling matrons of Menzoberranzan, should—” “Suppose that is not what I want?” Saribel interrupted. “Perhaps my heart does not condone that which I see all about me.”

“It is hardly just the matrons and their priestesses, though. As this has sorted, there seem many more against our revolution than for it.” “For many reasons, though,” Zak reminded. “Fear of their matrons and of Lolth, of course. Or simply fear of this unknown future the Baenres have offered. They know the way it’s been, for the entirety their lives, even for those whose lives have spanned centuries. They know their place within that truth. They know the boundaries, the lines not to cross, the acts that give them gain and those that offer only pain. What do they know of this promised world beyond Lolth, particularly when it, too, from their perspective at least, will be under the designs of House Baenre?”