Lolth stormed into her rooms, flung herself onto her couch of living flesh, and seethed.
The world of Oerth had caused her absolute humiliation. Her major temple there had been destroyed. Her drow priesthood had been decimated. Hundreds of years of careful planning had been blown apart in a matter of hours. Primal energy had exploded through a magical gate, destroying Lolth’s underground temple, her high priestesses and acolytes, and the flower of the drow nobility. Caves had cracked, and the vast underground city that her minions had labored upon was now buried beneath untold megatons of rock. Worst of all, Lolth’s body upon that world had been destroyed—a good body, a powerful body, a titanic spider so huge it made kings and demons tremble. All gone. All burned to ash!
The shame of it! Her enemies had made her drunk on faerie wine, mocking her pure magnificence! She was now the laughing stock of the Abyss, with tanar’ri lords sending presents of wine and hangover cures to her palace day after day! Lolth flopped listlessly and muttered. She detonated minions and brooded endlessly. Fury and frustration made her universe seem dim and tasteless.
Oerth…
The place preyed on her night and day. There were other worlds, other campaigns. She had armies of evil conquering continents all across the planes. Oerth was a nothing. A speck! A tiny bauble amongst a universe of treasures—
Yet it had mocked her! It had humiliated Lolth the beautiful, the perfect! It had dared to laugh at the majesty of the Spider Queen!
Lolth’s bedroom was in a palace, and the palace was mounted inside a mechanical spider fortress a hundred feet tall. The juggernaut strode through the nexus of the planes, moving from world to world as Lolth supervised her minions and their military campaigns. Lying face down on her couch, Lolth felt the fortress rock beneath her as it walked, her lithe elven face dire and seething with hate. She had eyes of fire, a skin of jet, and pure silver hair that cascaded to the floor. Her sleek body sprawled on her couch, her fingers drumming as she watched a bronze clock ticking the minutes away.
The clock sounded a deep, dark chime, and Lolth jerked upright, naked and careless. Amorphous handmaidens slithered to open the doors and usher in her waiting servitors.
There were drow priestesses and lesser tanar’ri led by hopping toad demons seven feet tall. A great, gaunt, vaguely humanish dog demon led the pack, its four misshapen arms opening to clack their pincers. The beast abased itself as Lolth approached, then stood to gabble out its report.
“Magnificence! Good news!” The creature opened its claws wide and beamed. “The spells are going well. Only a few small hitches. I regret to say the new body will not be available on time—”
The only reply from Lolth was an incoherent scream. She slammed her fist into the demon, clutching the creatures still beating heart. Screaming, Lolth hurled the useless thing away, the demon’s blood spraying all over her naked flesh. Spiders as big as wolfhounds raced in to feed upon the bleeding demon.
“Now! Get me that damned body! Do it! Do it!” Lolth ripped her victim apart, the body still screaming. She tore out organs that smoked and steamed, her face an orgiastic mask of rage. “I want it now!” Demons scattered from her in fright. “No excuses! Now! Now! Now!”
A sudden wave of calm stole through the doors. Dripping wet, lean and magnificent, Lolth looked up as a demoness slithered into her hall.
Lolth’s secretary was cool, slender, had a serpentine lower body and three pairs of arms. Halting before Lolth with a graceful bow, she spared a glance for the dead demon—fastidiously disdaining the filth all over the floor.
“The new body is ready, your Magnificence.”
Lolth sprang to her feet, a stab of fire flickering across her skin. She raced along the rocking corridors of her mobile palace, her pet spiders following like a horde of excited puppies at her feet. The Queen of the Demonweb Pits strode through halls filled with giant arachnids, past metal walls where tiny imp-like quasits skittered through the dark. Tall and lean, with the body of a goddess and the soul of a black widow, Lolth strode into her workshops and stood in triumph in the door.
The lords of the tanar’ri were hard to kill. They would die only if slain while inside their own home realm. Outside of their own realms, death meant only a wait of a few hundred years until they could enter the plane once again. Lolth’s body upon Oerth had been destroyed, and it had taken one hundred days to fashion a replacement. She had squandered resources and lavished her powers to make herself a new shell. Finally the new vessel was ready, magnificent, and awaiting its triumphant awakening. In her hall of mirrors, Lolth gazed upon it and gave a silken smile.
Finally. No more giant spider forms. Oerth would be taken by magic and steel and ruled by an empress of invincible glory. Lolth’s new body was a copy of her current form—a long, lean dark elf female. She would tolerate no rivals for physical glory. Lolth’s bodies were crafted to absolute perfection—powerful, agile, and stunningly sensual.
The new body lay in a shrine deep in the bowels of Oerth, in one of Lolth’s few surviving temples. Her slaves had labored over it through Lolth’s long frustration, polishing the flesh to perfection. Lolth gazed upon the new form critically through her magic gate, trying to conceal her eagerness.
Perfect.
Lolth gave the body one last, delicious glance, then strode past her minions and secretaries. She climbed the stairs into the chamber at the front of her palace and leaned out over the balcony.
The huge metal spider-palace stamped across a landscape bleak with ash. Ruined cities burned, and monsters cavorted amongst the carrion. Lolth’s legions had been busy here, fighting a patient campaign of conquest. Her plans moved slowly and carefully, lest she evoke jealous anger from her peers. Slow and careful. Securing hidden bases, like spiders lurking in the woodpile—this was the formula Lolth had followed for hundreds of years.
But now it was high time to show the universe that the spider had a bite!
“Bring me the surviving high priestesses from Oerth.”
Lolth paced like a leopardess, then flung herself into her throne. Two shabby, terrified female drow entered the room—creatures diminished by the magnificence of Lolth’s dark beauty. Their white hair hung limp. Their black skins were unhealthy. Their robes had been pieced together from torn remnants scavenged from their ruined kingdom. The two high priestesses made obeisance to their goddess and waited, kneeling on the floor.
Slim, sleek and sensual, Lolth flowed up out of her throne. Her black skin gleamed in the light of the burning city as she leaned against a window frame.
“My children!”
“Magnificence.” The priestesses were hoarse. Their city was in ruins, and their days were spent chanting spells to hold back the scavengers that closed in around the remaining drow. “Tell us how we may serve you.”
“We shall serve you, children! We have a body in your temple again. We shall return to Oerth! We shall make your people safe, and then reward the faithful. Yes…” Lolth’s voice bubbled like a chorus of elven girls. “You have done well. Now tell me: the vampire pool—have you found it?”
A priestess—scarred, burned, and downcast—failed to meet her goddess eye to eye.
“N-no, your magnificence.”
Lolth glared, and the room seemed suddenly icy cold.
“Why not?”
One priestess licked her lips in fright. “W-we have no w-workers, Magnificence. No sorcerers! There are only a few hundred left. The collapse of the city—”
“No matter. No matter.” Lolth did not care to hear excuses and depression. Oerth was coming into her grasp! “You will have sorcerers, and an earth elemental. Search! Uncover the pool!”
“Yes, your Magnificence.”
The palace lurched as it crossed a ridge. At the palaces feet, Lolth spied capering flocks of harpies harrying her enemies. The demon queen gave an indulgent little smile.
“Yes. Dig. First—the pool. Then make tunnels. We will need accommodation for the assistants we shall be sendin
g you.”
“Assistants, Magnificence?” The priestesses looked at one another anxiously. The surviving drow were barely scraping an existence in the underdark by eating scraps scavenged from the ruins. “How—how many assistants?”
Lolth drew in a long, slow breath as she looked across her armies celebrating in the rubble below. There were spider beings and demons, undead legions and foul, slithering things taken from a dozen other worlds. On other planes, Lolth had army after army—hidden forces that lay in wait as their mistress matured her evil plans.
The two drow risked a glance at their goddess.
“Magnificence? H-how many assistants will you send?”
Lolth turned to face the miserable priests, and gave a seething smile.
“Millions.”
The Demon Queen breathed raggedly, excited by the vision of revenge, of glory—of power! It was time to show the cosmos that Lolth was a force to be feared! She would unveil all her hidden pieces in a wild blaze of glory! She would strip a hundred worlds of their hidden troops and mass them all into a single tidal wave. Oerth would fall—obliterated and enslaved. A whole demon world would be made. The throne on which Lolth sat would be worshiped. The other tanar’ri lords would bow—sweet vengeance for the mockery Lolth had suffered since her defeat!
A whole world taken. A new era would dawn. Lolth would become queen of the tanar’ri, mounted on a throne built from Oerth’s rotting dead.
But before it began, there was a little time for fun. Lolth let it settle deliciously in her mind, and then spoke to her secretary with a voice that shimmered like a chorus of angels.
“Have the pilots take us back to the Demonweb. Take us home. Summon the commanders from each and every world to a conference in eight hours’ time.”
Lolth’s long, serpentine secretary wrote notes upon three separate tablets at once, her six hands busy and her face in a frown. Orders were spoken. At the rods and wheels that controlled the spider palace, sleek succubi went to work. The palace poised, one huge spider foot hovering in mid air—then the juggernaut slowly began to turn. Its footfalls clashed like titanic cymbals as the metal monster trod slowly away, crushing the corpses of conquest underneath its feet.
Lolth savored the delicious smell of burning flesh caught in the breeze, and then turned, her violet eyes seething with delight.
“Now—let’s get on with this, shall we?”
The demonic secretary gave an annoyed glare at her mistress, tucking a writing stylus behind one long ear. Of all Lolth’s minions, only her secretary never showed fear—only an air of martyrdom and overwork that Lolth found extremely amusing.
“Magnificence, if we concentrate forces, we must find a way to feed them.”
“Details, details!” The future was blooming like a flower, and Lolth danced with delight! “We’re on our way at last! Think of it! Universal conquest! Cosmic domination! There are worlds to obliterate, slaves to conquer, enemies to destroy—orgiastic rites slithering in oceans of human blood!”
The secretary scowled. “Are you well, Magnificence?”
“Oh, I feel like a little girl!” Lolth paused mid-pirouette. “Have the cook send one up!”
Unamused, the secretary licked the end of her pencil and took notes on a pad.
“Magnificence? May I ask again about supplies for the troops?”
“We will live off the land! Oerth is rich. Find a pointless little city and invade it, then we’ll use its populace as our supplies. We can let the monsters have their fun!” Lolth heaved a happy sigh as she contemplated the magnificence of her revenge. “We must enjoy ourselves, you sour little serpent.”
The demonic queen turned, laid a hand upon her two high priestesses from Oerth, and smiled.
“Search. Find me the vampire pool again, and we shall reward you. Your kingdom will be returned to you a thousand fold!”
Lolth felt her palace walking the grounds of an alien world and sensed her legions and her armies like a fine-tuned instrument beneath her hands. She had the means to take her revenge at last. She had the power. She had the will.
The world of Oerth had mocked her, and it would die….
In theory, they were still heading for Hommlet.
They marched through a range of dusty, tree-smothered hills on a day that seemed eerily hushed and still. In the lead walked the Justicar—huge, shaven headed, and grim in his armor of black dragon scales. Draped over his head and back was Cinders, a grinning sentient hell hound pelt that wagged his tail in eternal glee, jutting through the Justicar’s belt was a magical sword named Benelux. Despite its wolf skull pommel, the blade was talkative, prissy, and prim. Even when silent, the sword managed to radiate an impression that it approved of none of the current goings-on.
Behind Jus was Henry—eighteen years old, tall, skinny, and apparently made up mostly of elbows and knees. His blond hair framed a face smattered with freckles. A fine shirt of elven mail, threaded with green chords to keep it silent, betrayed an occasional sparkle beneath his cloak. He carried a sword, and a hefty magical crossbow sloped over his shoulders as he kept up with the Justicar stride-for-stride, bravely trying not to look tired.
Henry snuck sly glances at the happy female sphinx who walked beside him. Enid was larger than a lion—a shy, pretty creature with freckles on her nose, white feathers on her wings, her hair plaited in a thousand braids. Her big paws padded amiably in the dust, and her weaving tail cast its shadow onto the dappled light of the road. Riding on her back was a large badger who perpetually scribbled notes in a dog-eared journal. Polk the teamster, reincarnated as a lovable woodland beast, was, if anything, even more annoying than he had ever been.
Flitting madly from one end of the party to the other, dressed in a costume so sleek it was outlawed on six outer planes, Escalla the faerie was having a busy day. Full of energy, the little creature held a stick, flew level with Jus’ head, and waved her hands in the air.
“All right pooch! Are you concentrating?” Escalla hovered above the roadway, paused, then threw a stick down the road. “Fetch the stick! Go on! Fetch!”
The stick hit the ground a dozen yards ahead. Escalla looked happily from the stick to Cinders where he rode draped across the Justicar’s helm. She whooshed her hands forward, trying to will the hell hound into a run. “Go on! Fetch!”
Marching tirelessly along the road, the Justicar decided neither to ask nor comment. Henry looked from one of his friends to the other. Polk was busy trying to put his chronicles into heroic rhyme, and Enid was carrying sticks for Escalla.
Intrigued, Henry asked, “Hey, Escalla? Um, what are you doing?”
“Trying to teach the pooch to fetch!” Recording the moment on her slowglass gem, the little faerie happily tossed another stick for Cinders, full of boundless enthusiasm. “Come on Cinders! Fetch!”
“Oh.” Henry struggled to set his crossbow properly in the crook of his arm. He leaned close to Escalla and whispered. “Um, isn’t that difficult when he’s… you know, an empty skin?”
Escalla shot a glance at Cinders, and then drifted Henry out of earshot of the hound.
“It’s my plan to get him mobile.”
“Mobile?”
“Look: the pooch can wag his tail, he can lift his ears… . I think getting him moving is just a case of mind over matter.” Escalla slapped a new throw-stick into her little palm. “That’s why we’re going to basics here! If we make instinct work for us, we can get over the mental barrier he has!”
“By fetching a stick?”
“Hey!” The faerie waved her hands. “Dogs fetch sticks! All the books say they do!”
“Really?” Henry peered thoughtfully over at Cinders’ big teeth. “He’s a hell hound. Maybe they fetch bones or skulls or something?”
With a heavy sigh, the Justicar looked at Escalla. “Escalla, I don’t think Cinders is quite up to fetching any sticks.”
“Ha! What you people need to learn is perseverance! You need some self discipline!” Escalla t
ossed a stick up the road. “Cinders! Fetch!”
There were at least two hundred sticks littered in the party’s wake. Undefeated, Escalla eagerly made fetch motions at Cinders, who merely grinned. A tad annoyed, the girl speared him with a thoughtful glare.
“Are you really trying, or aren’t you?”
Fun! The hell hound wagged his tail. Good exercise for funny faerie!
Escalla went into a sulk.
“Aw, come on, pooch! This is a serious experiment here!”
Long day. Cinders tired.
“Well, all right.” Escalla tossed a final stick aside. “We’ll give it a rest for a while. We don’t want to strain your, um… whatever muscle things it is that let you move. But tonight, you practice for another hour! And you get a coal lump for each stick you snatch!”
The Justicar gave a patient arch of his brow.
“Escalla, the day he catches his first stick, I’ll give him a whole wagon load.”
“Hey, pooch! You hear that?” Escalla landed on Jus’ shoulder and ruffled the ears of both man and beast. “See! He believes in you!”
Cinders happy!
“Good.” The Justicar reached up to pat the hell hound’s skull. “Good boy.”
The path led through deserted forests, past the ruins of an ancient tower, and into lovely quiet hills. This empty country separated the civilized kingdoms of the south from the savage kingdoms of the north where the minions of Iuz lurked. Even this far south, the lands had been depopulated by the Greyhawk Wars. War bands had swept through years ago, done their damage, then disappeared. Now the hills were quiet, and old bones crumbled softly into dust.
There was no game. No deer started out of the forest. No hares or doves fled as the adventurers moved along the old deserted road. After a while, it became uncanny. The Justicar walked slightly off the trail and ran his hands over a disturbed patch of grass, looking down at a pile of deer droppings that had turned white with sun and rain. Henry immediately sank into cover, cocking the magic crossbow. Jus let the boy do his work and began sifting through the forest’s sights and smells.
Queen of the Demonweb Pits Page 2