The Rebirth of House Yathtallar
After the fall of their head Priestess during the invasion of mortals the entirety of the Drow nation felt deep shame. Many houses were exterminated or worse, removed from history and banished to the surface. The house of Yathtallar escaped the deep rooted inquisition, remaining in the deep shadows it had always played. Matron Yathtallar seemed so devoid of anger that it sunk to Zilvra’s core, how could mother not care? The Beauty Underneath had been played and falsified by their own society. Zilvra, Matron Yathtallar’s oldest child, could not stand idle, her family had taken to the shadows for too long and she would see them rise once more. In 500 years they had kept their presence remote, unknown to many in idle worship. She would change it all and bring the Beauty to flesh so she might have her retribution.
Years seeped by as she plotted, like a spider waiting for the strum of its prey in her web. She gathered and planned her exit, she would leave a traitor to her family and return as the true high priestess of the Beauty Underneath to truly rule in her vision. She knew of the dragonriders, she knew of the elf kind that invaded her home. Though their death would be like a thick sweet honey to her touch, it was the Ma’m she truly loathed. A creature who deemed itself as one of them, entering their home, poisoning the priestess and destroying the Drow pride. She would hunt them all down, every last one, learn their secrets and find out their connection, why they came and proclaimed ties to the Beauty. She garnered as much description as she could, even procuring a drawing of its very weapon, a tool that could steal the life of another. Ma’m Catheil was the only name she could obtain, but she knew through the whispers of her webs that there were more. They had a connection, how she did not know, but she would find out. She would destroy them, or become one of them if they truly are of the Beauty’s will.
Only her mother stood in the way, long arguments took place, requesting permission to go above, to find these women who brought such disgrace below. She knew her mother had sat too long, now she enjoyed the idle position of observer, one of non-action. Zilvra would not stand to let this be swept under a sea of time until all drow forgot that day. Even know the bitter hatred was steaming away and soon to leave no blood left to boil. If her mother would not give her permission she would go to the house demon, Yk’Lagor Silitha(Succubus), for blessing.
She went at dawn, her mind clear after hours of preparation, Yk’Lagor could be deceiving, even to her own house, and often had her own agenda. She had never spoken with Yk’Lagor alone, but it was long overdue, even though her slothful mother still felt her too young for contract. A day past during their visit, none could enter and none could leave, as bound by the blood oath of entrance. A deal would be struck or a death would be had in family Yathtallar. Yk’Lagor anger at mother matched Zilvra’s own boiling blood as her tale left her lips. Zilvra garnered Yk’Lagor’s favor, her powers strengthened in the occult that day, the price steep, the blood of her family was to be Yk’Lagor’s by three days or her soul would become hers. Zilvra held no love for her siblings, they only plotted ways to steal her mother’s favor, her father was simply another male Drow, weak and pathetic; she still did not understand her mother’s choosing. Her mother’s death would be to her benefit, she would no longer be Zilvra, but Matron Yathtallar, and her mother’s time had passed. She would carry her sacrifice to Yk’Lagor with pleasure. She bound the sacrifice with a promise to bring Yk’Lagor five daggers, not just any daggers, but the life song of the Ma’m’s and the heart of their power. With these, she would show and help Zilvra bring the Beauty Underneath to the flesh, to release them all to their rightful throne over all mortal flesh.
She instilled great caution to Zilvra, “You are small, punitive, to this world; my power shall grow in you as the very seed of strength. Feed and fertilize this power, give me blood and I will give you strength, spread my webs far and wide, but do not strike too soon, or they shall have your head and I shall have your soul. If you think your death would be quiet, do not forget the hell in which I shall have you burn eternally should you fail. Years are but moments to me, do not lay prey to unnecessary haste child. Now go.”