Table of Contents
Introduction
I am not going to go through and explain all of the phrases that non-players (and non Forgotten Realms players) may not understand right now. Maybe later I will come back and add in definitions. This is the beginning of a large base of writing I would like to do for Arion (Sir’ra would be her common name; Sr’tar’an Ka’tor’al Antu would be her true name). This is the beginning to her history which I have in my mind, but do not have the skill to put eloquently to paper. I do not like that way the demon lord is portrayed here and will need to go back and repair that some day. I wrote this a long time ago during the second edition days.
Narrative
Genesis
Gently she padded dry the bath water from her milk white skin. Her vibrant green eyes glanced over the strong, handsome, half-elven male lying fast asleep in the bed near-by. Smugly she noted how easy it is to tempt them. The same routine every time.
“Brin” she called softly. “Brin” her delicate elven voice lilted quietly. Fast asleep from a night of passion that only she could induce. She carefully glanced about the room ensuring all was in order. She picked up her bloodpearl and ruby bracelet from the worn nightstand and gently closed the clasp. She pointed her finger at Brin and a green ray lashed forth and engulfed the sleeping noble and then disappeared.
Saer’ren placed her finishing kiss lightly upon his cheek as her innocent yet demure beauty shifted to her natural form. Vibrant green eyes became milky white. Short, golden brown hair became a coarse, long, and dark brown. Vestigial horns and large bat like wings burst forth. She unfolded and flexed her bat like wings while letting out a smug chuckle. How she loved her job. The sleeping Waterdehavian noble roused as Saer’ren shifted back to the Abyss where her master awaits.
The Prophecy
As one of the most practiced and successful succubus’ in Esrutar’s harem, Saer’ren had the privilege of arriving in the center of the courtroom vice the outskirts of his onyx citadel. When the dark red, purple and sickly brown mists typical of her shifting dissipated she approached the throne. Her approach caused the 6 lumbering polearm wielding guards to part revealing the massive winged lord sitting upon his onyx and bone throne, scepter at side and Prissian on shoulder. Prissian was a chaos imp, the favored one. Their presence always made her uncomfortable, especially when dealing with the tempermental mortals. Upon reaching the top step leading to Lord Esrutar’s throne she bowed low and before she could say anything He spoke.
“Prissan tells me all went well”. His deep, resonant and layered voice echoed throughout the cavernous throne room seeming to come from everywhere. His pitch black, almost iridescent, eyes leveled to her. His crimson skin rippled as his corded muscles shifted to a more comfortable position.
“You expected less” she teased. The imp quietly cackled. Saer’ren snarled at Prissian baring her fangs. Prissian promptly scampered away fearing her wrath. Saer’ren’s temper towards the imps had cost Esrutar many of his best spies. If any other had even looked at his imp’s wrong they would immediately be chained down and thrown into the larva pits to be devoured alive.
“My plan is in motion” he stated to no one in particular. “Go, my love, to the Pit of Despair and touch one or a hundred if you like.” Sar’ren new what that meant. ‘Leave me. I have work to do.’ That was the only time she was not at his side. She left feeling insulted as usual at not being involved. The sound of a mortal scream followed by cruel laughter washed it all away.
Esrutar waved and Car’thran, an Arcanoloth, came forth dispelling his seclusion magic. Esrutar was anxious for this meeting to end for he did not trust Car’thran or any of his kind. They are the vultures of the Blood War, playing whatever side will give them the most profit. They had their uses, however limited.
“Her spawn is marked. You divine well Arcanoloth. She will bear it within the week and then you shall have all of what is yours. Half now – half later” “As was agreed”, Car’thran rasped, “a marked half breed for your part of Lord Sh’thracs True Name. A small price don’t you think.” Weary of Sh’Thrac’s antics and continuous disobedience, Esrutar was happy to give ‘them’ what ‘they’ desired hoping ‘they’ would deal with him so he did not have to. You never know who the Loths will deal with. It may be a demi-god or a lowly goblin. It will be whoever has the best price.
“of course!” Esrutar handed the Arcanonloth a sealed scroll case. Car’thran barely touched it and it disappeared. If it could smile, Esrutar could feel the Loth was. Car’thran, trusting in their pact, bowed low and vanished. Somehow after dealing with the Loth’s he felt tainted, dirty – as if a Paladin had been in his midst.
A large cast iron vat was lowered from the upper chambers and set before the scheming lord. “Ahh! Snack time. ” he said to himself. Lemures, the unfortunate souls of those who made it here, writhed an squirmed in the vat. They were not tasty by any means, kind of like crunchy gruel if you could imagine that, but they always cheered him up. He grasped 2 of the 4′ lemures and paused a moment before tossing them in his mouth. He snickered. The mindless lemure knew not what was about to befall. He tossed them casually into his mouth and began munching. Their energy surged through his very being; he reveled as the flashes of every step of their short pathetic lives washed by. Every step that led them to come here. Every evil or slightly malign action they had ever done ran vividly through his mind. This was one of the redeeming factors being the lord of your own realm. He sighed and mused “I’m a soul man!”
Gestation
The following week passed by uneventfully as Sar’ren’s stomach grew and grew from the alu-demon growing within. ‘The heat, the pressure!! Why can’t I move. I, I can’t see…..”, silent scream. The demonling began to shift and Saer’ren became uncomfortable. The thought of having a mortal thing within her did not make her happy either. “Get it out!!” Saer’ren screamed as the demonling moved. Her now seemingly frail 5’9″ body heaved with the pain of carrying a nearly fully formed alu-demon. Saer’ren appeared like a mortal women with an extra 200 lbs of fleshy stuff added to her stomach. A bloated unmoving women thing that spawns evil. The thought made Esrutar smile with pleasure. “Very well!” Esrutar chuckled sinisterly. When his iron corded fist hit her above her massively bloated stomach she flew across the room. Her scream was abrupt as she hit the floor. The pain blinded her to the instant the child hit the floor with a sickening wet smack. Amniotic ichor coated the entire floor making every step Esrutar took evident by the distinct sound of crunch-suck.
Saer’ren hated the next part. It was the same every time. It happened every time and there was nothing she could do about it. She crawled near the alu-demon and then it started. “Sr’tar’an Ka’tor’al Antu” she whispered. The true name of the child was carried wordlessly away by The Wind of Souls to be heard by none, yet deeply ingrained in the psyche of the newborn. “Sir’ra, I shall call her.” It was the same every time. True Name, Name, and then the four words. It was different for all sucubbi. But this was her birth ritual.
The sticky lump of alu-demon in fetal position lay unmoving on the floor seeming almost encased in a shell of her bat like wings. It reeked of rancid ichor. Saer’ren telepathically sensed for life and found that Sir’ra was alive. Esrutar roughly picked up Saer’ren and handed her to his guards. “Get her cleaned up.” Saer’ren, exhausted, stayed limp and said nothing. “Take the half-breed to the lemure pits until she recovers. Bring a pack of lemures to get this cleaned up”
The First Moments
A deluge of senses struck Sir’ra at once. The heat, the stench of sulpher and brimstone, death and decay, and the dull warmth of the rock she lay upon. The sounds of screams and cruel laughter, bubbling lava, and roaring, sputtering flames. The unintelligent lemures scattered as Sir’ra heaved up for her first breath of the dry, hot and acrid abyssal air. Gasp after gasp she clutched her head as she tried to sort it all out. After a while her breathing settled as each sight, sound, taste, scent and feeling became distinct and coherent. She lay rocking slightly on the ground in a pit with one entrance. She tried to get up but the pain searing though the left side of her body soon halted any movement. The dizziness set in and then the world began to swirl. She tried to focus to stop the world from spinning around and around and around. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, helping to clear her mind and to reduce the pain to a dull yet powerful throbbing through her entire body eyes and all. She knew something bad was about to happen but she did not know how or why, but she did.
She slowly stood up, careful to not make it any more painful than necessary. She warily stood up to face it what ever it was. A pack of pudgy doughboy looking things lumbered towards her hands extended from the only opening in the pit. “Let me be” she sent knowing she could not beat the two score of lemure. “Friends!” she sent, hands extended, desperate for a response. The lemure seemed to not notice as they pressed their ominous advance. Determined to not go down with out a fight she lunged at one hitting it twice solidly. The lemure was dead before it hit the ground, dull phosphorescent eyes glowing no more. The sudden surge of energy that coursed though her body from each hit startled her but served to accentuate their revitalizing energies. That moment allowed the rest of the pack to tackle her and bludgeon her unhindered. Her last conscious thought was wishing to be on the ledge of the pit that she could so clearly see in her mind.
