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GIVEN THAT THIS TALE IS DIFFERENT FROM THE REST OF MY WORKS AND THAT IT MAY NOT BE OF INTEREST TO MANY READERS, I'M GOING TO RELY ON THE NUMBER OF COMMENTS I GET TO GAUGE THE AMOUNT OF INTEREST THERE IS. IF YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO READ, PLEASE LET ME KNOW BY SIGNALLING YOUR PRESENCE IN THE COMMENTS.
ENSLAVED BY THE DROW
CHAPTER 8 - LESSONS
As soon as Quartermaster Seldszar gave a nod to the guards, Elias was silently hurried back to the relative safety of the barracks and returned to the same rigid routine he had slowly grown accustomed to.
The next four days passed much like the previous. The young human's world was reduced to the boring, yet strangely comforting, stillness of his holding cell. He made himself more compliant and deferential, hoping that it might earn him kinder treatment and perhaps even a speck of leniency from his guards. But the sentries assigned to his preservation enforced the same routine with unflinching precision - never loosening their hold on his leash during the humiliating walks around the training yards, and never offering a word beyond that which was necessary.
Unless they stood to directly benefit from it, they simply had no reason to show the boy any special treatment. A bribe or a favour of some sort might have softened their glares a bit, but Elias currently had nothing to offer beyond what was already expected of him: silence and obedience.
The half-drow healer returned at the same time every day, wordlessly applying various salves and cooling lotions on wounds that were slowly beginning to heal. Elias stayed his questions and kept his eyes carefully averted. Whatever faint connection existed between them - common blood or otherwise - was best left unspoken.
On the morning of the eighth day, a change came, and not one Elias welcomed. Though he silently longed for something to occupy his time and yearned for enough privacy to relieve himself without the constant fear of being seen, the prison cell had become his home, and the guards had somehow become his inescapable refuge.
He had grown accustomed to them; to their measured harshness, gruff manner and firm grip. There was a strange comfort in the routine they imposed, in the certainty that he was always being watched and in the predictability of it all. He knew the arrangement was only temporary and that he would be returned to Seldszar for reassessment. But being integrated into the house's active labour force was not something he looked forward to.
The taller guard appeared at his cell door with a stern expression and a curt command already at his lips. "Up."
Elias apprehensively obeyed, rising quickly from his thin resting pad. The collar's weight was as familiar as his own shadow now. It served as a constant reminder of his place.
He raised his chin and voluntarily offered his neck to the imposing sentryman, allowing for the leash to more easily be affixed to his collar. No gesture of approval came. No validation was given. The stern-faced guard merely leashed his human ward much like he always did and wrapped the leather strap around his hand until little slack remained.
Elias was led out of the stuffy barracks. The air immediately felt more breezy as they exited the stone structure and emerged onto the open courtyard. Groups of soldiers trained, and morning drills were already well underway. Rare were those moments when the yard was not abuzz with the sound of clashing steel or the barked orders of drill masters.
As they passed through the busy yard and made haste towards the main complex, a sudden, high-pitched scream cut through the ambient dissonance.
Elias instinctively allowed his eyes to glance upwards, but what he saw caused him to freeze dead in his tracks. Three goblins were bound to wooden posts, their legs tied at the ankles and their wrists pulled high up with thick ropes. A large group of soldiers had gathered around them; watching and laughing as a smaller group of young recruits hurled darts and throwing knives, using the panicked creatures as living targets.
Projectiles flew, piercing fingers, ears and limbs - each hit drawing additional cheers from the growing crowd. The bound goblins shrieked and convulsed, the sound of their agony rising up above the noisy clamour. Most of the soldiers laughed, grinning cruelly even as the poor creatures writhed.
Elias felt his throat go dry and his chest tighten. He tried to turn away, but the hand holding his leash suddenly jerked him forward - straight towards the appalling spectacle. Unbeknownst to him, the expression of wide-eyed horror plainly visible on his face had caught the attention of at least one perceptive onlooker.
A tall drow slowly stepped from the crowd, shoulder-length hair framing a strikingly handsome face, his bulky plate mail glistening faintly in the courtyard's dim glow. The armoured commander's crimson gaze swept hungrily over the leashed human, an air of sadistic amusement etched all over his chiselled features.
Elias recognised him immediately. This was the same high-ranking officer one of his duergar handlers had deferentially bowed to when he was first led into the gated compound – Commander Veldrin, Second Son of House Druu'giir.
The commander's smile was casual, almost affectionate, as he motioned for the guard to approach his position. Elias was pulled forward, his legs trembling as the crushing weight of fear and uncertainty began pressing down on him.
As soon as he was close enough, the handsome warlord extended an arm, cupping the back of Elias's head in one large, gauntlet-covered hand. His other hand reached up, fingers slowly brushing the boy's blond hair aside in a feigned gesture of care. Elias shivered. His face was tilted upward, forcing his pale blue eyes to meet the drow lord's gaze - a predatory red gaze that seemed to measure and claim...both at the same time.
"Ah...those wide, terrified eyes. I do hope you keep them, boy. They suit you." the drow lord purred, his deep, silky voice sending a shiver down Elias's spine.
One of the goblins screamed again as a crossbow bolt zipped through the air - penetrating his bony thigh and embedding itself into the wooden post behind it. The wet, sickening thud it made resonated above the laughter.
Elias felt sick to his stomach. He shuddered and tried to look away, but the commander's grip immediately tightened. "Don't look away, boy. This is part of your education." he murmured in a hushed, intimate tone, forcing the frightened lad to witness the gruesome spectacle.
Another agonising scream erupted across the courtyard, causing Elias's blue orbs to pool with tears. Still, he was forbidden from turning his face away. The towering commander wanted him to watch, wanted him to see.
"This..." Veldrin whispered, his voice low and velvety. "This is what happens to slaves who displease. Do you understand, boy? That is what might happen to you as well should you ever become...boring." he went on, a sadistic smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he savoured the diminutive human's obvious discomfort.
Elias's breath caught. His watery eyes squeezed shut upon hearing a truly horrendous scream coming from one of those poor creatures. The drow commander felt no pity, though. He simply watched, transfixed not by the horrific spectacle but by the tears streaming down the young surfacer's pale face. Lord Veldrin was unmistakably titillated by this foreign display of open weakness and vulnerability - titillated, disgusted, and amused.
"So fragile. So soft..." he seductively mused, rubbing the back of his gloved fingers against the side of the trembling human's tear-lined face. "I'll have to be very careful with you, won't I? Hmm. I'll try...at least at first."
The young warlord released his grip on Elias's head and took a lazy step back before cocking his own head to the side and giving the trembling lad a deliberately long look that slowly travelled up and down his body. The unspoken lewdness of his irrefutably calculating gaze made Elias shiver. He was being measured. Measured for what purpose, he could only imagine.
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Story comment:
This is really intense, and I genuinely feel awful for Elias now. I want to save him so bad!
Miscellaneous:
The setup is just that people have been going missing and trails have led to Underdark access points. My party is going to investigate, and perhaps stage a rescue!
Volobond wrote: 2 weeks ago
Veldrin, don't terrify the boy! You know how weak humans are - what if he dies of fright? Then all his training would be for nothing!
There's enough resurrection magic and more than enough clerics crawling around Menzoberranzan to bring him back! Now, would they waste the time, magic, and material cost to do so for a slave?
Volobond wrote: 2 weeks ago
Did anyone else's eyes immediately turn to the warmongering Zesstra as the culprit of this false flag operation? Lolth is said to greatly enjoy the infighting between drow houses and even within drow houses, despite (or because of) the harm and stagnation it causes drow society. A high priestess of hers, particularly a zealot like Zesstra, would have every reason to stoke a war between houses, and the arrogance to believe her favor would earn her protection.
That said, if it really is another house, then Druu'giir may be at a disadvantage when it comes to magical surveillance and divination - their arcane might is meager compared to other houses.
I did have that thought. It fits perfectly well with the betrayal that is baked into Lolth's tenants and how the Drow operate. But it feels to obvious for it to be Zesstra. My thinking is that it is one (or both) of her sisters, acting more subtly behind the scenes to frame this other house and also letting Zesstra and her outbursts be the obvious culprit and take the fall.
Redman wrote: 2 weeks ago
I'm liking how this seems to have shifted gears into an in-universe story. It's easy to forget what site this is on. Well done, sir!
Going by some of the PM interactions I've had, it seems the throne room scene was not super well-received. A number of readers who enjoyed the first two chapters jumped ship and checked out at Chapter 3. Still, I'm glad a few of you are enjoying the added intrigue. I don't like to drop spoilers, but the throne room scenes will definitely tie in to Elias's plot later on.
But yeah, I know the tale is a bit out of place here.
A much better home for it would be Archives of Our Own and Fanfiction.net.
Still, the important thing when writing is to enjoy doing it, and I definitely do enjoy writing this piece, even if my audience is much smaller than what I've gotten used to. Anyways, thanks for the support! I'm glad you're enjoying this so far.
OrdinaryWorld wrote: 2 weeks ago
Need something to go badly wrong with Elias so the Drow feel a pang of guilt or at least regret how they treat people
Hmm. Interesting. What do you mean by "go badly wrong with Elias"?
I'm curious to hear your thoughts, my friend. Feel free to elaborate.
It's getting better with each chapter. The drow are really ruthless, I can't wait to see how Elias' journey will continue. I do hope that the brothers have different dynamics, with one being very sadistic while the other one is slightly more lenient. I also can't wait how Elias will tie into the whole intruiges going on...
It's easy as humans to feel distaste in the lack of humanity in drows, but it's natural to their culture. And they're not humans. These clear statements are very much shown. We want justice and a humane resolution fro Elias, but in truth, we need to acknowledge at the most a softer drow approach. It'll be interesting to see where that lands as this story is already like nothing I have seen on this site
Not sure if Veldrin meant it but I have a hunch that he'll try and toughen up Elias a bit for him to last longer - while still keeping him afraid of him, of course.
bondagefreak wrote: 2 weeks ago
Hmm. Interesting. What do you mean by "go badly wrong with Elias"?
Like, he suddenly gets badly sick, or he has a complete emotional melt-down and is unable to get out of bed. That sort of thing.
They'll probably shrug and move on to the next target. The drow find Elias valuable enough to keep safe to an extent, but nothing we read so far indicates that he's indispensable, sad as it is.
Bondage enthusiast in his 20s, a fan of cute guys, underwear, and bondage, preferably together.
OrdinaryWorld wrote: 2 weeks ago
Like, he suddenly gets badly sick, or he has a complete emotional melt-down and is unable to get out of bed. That sort of thing.
Ah, I understand. Unfortunately, it's highly unlikely. Not the getting sick or having a meltdown part, but the remorse and pity you are hoping it would provoke. If Elias were to fall badly sick, he would most likely be secluded and brought back to health, much as he was upon his arrival. But such care would not be the product of pity. It would stem entirely from a desire to maintain productivity. Sort of like a large farm caring for one of its sick milk cows. The care would be cold and detached.
If Elias had an emotional breakdown, that would be very different and possibly much direr for him. Breaking down on his own, without it being permitted or sought by the drow would most likely be interpreted as either rebelliousness or defectiveness.
The consequences would depend entirely on his use, whether he's judged valuable/useful enough to fix and reshape and whether he's owned by an individual drow. @DeeperThanRed is correct. Elias is far from indispensable at this time.
Been a bit busy with traveling and having fun but I guess after 8 chapters, I'll signal my presence.
Interesting story. I fear for Elias but I don't exactly feel as though he's in a serious amount of danger, atleast at the moment. Curious to see this continue on!
GIVEN THAT THIS TALE IS DIFFERENT FROM THE REST OF MY WORKS AND THAT IT MAY NOT BE OF INTEREST TO MANY READERS, I'M GOING TO RELY ON THE NUMBER OF COMMENTS I GET TO GAUGE THE AMOUNT OF INTEREST THERE IS. IF YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO READ, PLEASE LET ME KNOW BY SIGNALLING YOUR PRESENCE IN THE COMMENTS.
ENSLAVED BY THE DROW
CHAPTER 9 - DESCENT INTO SLAVERY
As soon as Commander Veldrin concluded the chilling exchange by turning his attention back to the gruelling spectacle, the guard yanked on Elias's leash and guided the boy onward, leaving the ambient sound of screams and laughter behind.
That night, and in the days that followed, the memory of those poor tortured goblins would haunt Elias. Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear their shrieks and imagine their contorted forms. It was a grim reminder of what the drow could do to those who displeased them, and the type of agonising death that might also await him should he ever prove displeasing.
The walk through the main complex was uneventful. They passed a number of goblinoid slaves, most locking their yellow eyes down to the floor or cowering in fear upon noticing the imposing guard leading Elias by his leash.
The servants' lavatory was dimly lit and blissfully unoccupied. Just as had become custom every second day of his preservation, Elias's leash was unclipped and he was ordered to bathe. The tall soldier, who had become his principal handler of sorts, posted himself by the wooden doorway, guarding against unwarranted entries and preventing any would-be escape.
"Hurry." he at one point curtly growled, his face betraying clear impatience as he ordered the pale human not to waste any time.
Elias nodded and did as he was told. The wooden basin wasn't even half-full when he hurriedly lowered himself into the lukewarm water and began scrubbing away the faint smell of the barracks from his skin. He was fully conscious of crimson eyes hawkishly staring at him the whole time, but even so, he could do nothing but silently bathe under their watch.
There was no lingering when he finished. As soon as he got up from the wooden tub, the towering sentry approached and a rough towel was shoved at his soaked form. "Quickly." the guard impatiently pressed, causing his shivering ward to hastily comply. Elias wasn't even allowed enough time to dry his hair off before the guard deemed it fit to grab the towel from his hands and toss it to the floor. "Dress." he ordered, watching with hawkish impatience as the pale surfacer bent down to gather the clean tunic he'd been provided.
Elias was escorted out of the lavatory, with his matted blond hair still wet and the pale grey fabric of his tunic clinging lightly to his damp skin. No dignity. No decorum. Only function and unyielding efficiency.
When they entered the large storeroom, Quartermaster Seldszar was exactly where Elias expected him: seated behind his broad, ink-stained desk. The air that filtered up his nostrils was thick with the scent of old parchments and candle wax. It was quite different from the smell of oil, steel and stone that permeated the barracks.
The ancient-looking, eight-century-old drow barely glanced up from the pile of documents he was busily annotating. Only when the guard announced his presence by not-so-subtly clearing his throat did a mildly annoyed Seldszar finally lift his head up. His crimson eyes settled on the guard, then on Elias, and for once, they didn't immediately narrow.
"Ahhh. Much better." the Quartermaster soothingly commended, his calm tone and relaxed expression hinting at approval. "He looks almost presentable now." he noted, not addressing the young human directly but speaking of him to the guard.
Elias wasn't sure whether the ageing Quartermaster's comment was meant as praise or mockery, but he nevertheless felt the heat of embarrassment rising to his cheeks. He, of course, wisely responded by keeping his gaze fixed on the stone floor.
Seldszar rose with deliberate slowness, the movement revealing a faint stiffness in his tired joints. He stepped around the cluttered desk, his gaze scanning the freshly bathed human in the way one might appraise a decorative vase or a fragile antique.
The examination felt needlessly thorough. The old drow's fingers prodded at the fading bruises along Elias's ribs, traced the slowly healing whip marks on his back and legs, and pressed along his arms and forearms as if assessing muscle tone. He tipped Elias's chin up and peered at the boy's eyes - and even into his mouth - before placing his fingers beneath the human's jaw and palpating the lymph nodes at the front of his neck. Elias flinched slightly at the unexpected intimacy of the touch, but the Quartermaster didn't react. The oddly clinical inspection continued undisturbed.
"No swelling. Good. And the marks are healing nicely." Seldszar muttered, speaking to himself before taking a step back and appearing somewhat satisfied with the progress.
"I trust you did not give the guards cause to punish you?" he stated, or rather asked, addressing Elias directly for the first time, catching the nervous human completely off guard.
Elias hesitated, unsure how to respond and uncertain whether the question was actually meant for him or not. An uncomfortable silence ensued, during which he found himself instinctively lifting his gaze up from the barren floor and looking up to the guard, as though seeking some sort of permission or guidance. The towering sentryman's fiery glare was unmistakably expectant, causing the boy to quickly return his gaze to the floor and answer the Quartermaster's question.
"Nn...no, Sir." came the sound of his quivering response.
Seldzsar's eyes blinked before a white eyebrow was raised. "Sir?" he slowly repeated, as though genuinely taken aback by the very foreign-sounding word. The Quartermaster was wise and learned enough to realise that no insult was intended, but even so, ignorance was no excuse. "I am not one of your self-righteous human knights, boy." he scolded. "Unless you wish to lose your tongue, you will refrain from speaking such petty titles here. When addressed by your betters, you will respond with the proper honourifics: Master or Mistress. Nothing else. Should you ever choose to become creative and deviate from this, I will have the words beaten into you. Do you comprehend, child?" the old drow instructed, before finishing off with a stark warning.
Elias kept his eyes carefully glued to the floor and nodded quickly before slipping out a soft "Yes, Master."
"Good."
The inspection eventually concluded with the ageing Quartermaster stepping behind his desk and dismissing the guard with a casual nod. Elias quietly wavered, torn between thanking the departing soldier who had kept him under close watch and remaining silent. He knew better than to speak out of turn, yet the silence he maintained felt ungrateful - almost inhuman. He chose the wiser option, that of keeping his gratefulness unspoken.
Seldszar's demeanour remained calm as he slowly sat on the plump chair located behind his large desk. He glanced down at the stack of papers and scribbled something on a slate tablet even as Elias stood there, silently waiting for instructions.
An uncomfortable stillness stretched before the ageing noble finally allowed his crimson gaze to settle on the young human.
"Well...at least you're a bit prettier to look at than most of the other slaves roaming these corridors." he mused, speaking his thoughts aloud before letting out a bored and highly exaggerated sigh. "Very well. Since you appear strong enough to stand on your own legs and since your appearance is no longer sickly to the point of being an affront to the eyes, I will be placing you on light duties. You may have cost this house nothing, but we'll certainly find some use for you."
Elias silently gulped, the shocking display of cruelty he'd witnessed down in the courtyard still weighing heavily on his mind. His descent into slavery to the drow had only just begun, yet behind it loomed not only the Matron’s ominous threat, but also the chilling promise of Commander Veldrin’s attention. What the Fates had in store for him, he truly did not know.
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And so it begins. It's apparent how different humans and drow handle emotions. Elias actually formed some kind of one sided attachment to the guard and considered actually thanking him for just doing his job. No drow would probably even think about that.
thespy wrote: 2 weeks ago
Great exposition chapter, it really delved more into the lore, at least in my opinion; for a sec i imagined the story as if i was playing Skyrim (one of my only points of reference) and it was great, it helped a lot!
Glad you're enjoying yourself, buddy-boi. As for your mention of briefly using Skyrim due to it being one of your only reference points, ehhhhh. Let's just say that if I had the power to temporarily wipe your brain of all Elder Scrolls knowledge, I would. At least, for the duration of your reading. I like Skyrim too, btw.
I can sort of understand why your mind would be trying to make the connection, but using Skyrim or any of the Elder Scrolls as a reference point for D&D would be like using Star Wars as a reference for Star Trek, or Harry Potter as a reference for The Lord of the Rings. Both the ES series and D&D/Forgotten Realms share the fantasy genre, but similarities end there.
The Drow of D&D and the Dunmner of Skyrim/ES are culturally nothing alike. Even physically, the differences are stark. They both have pointy ears due to being elves, but that's about it. The Dunmner are ugly as hell (thanks to the hilariously messed-up ES face aesthetics ), while the Drow are depicted as being physically stunning.
I understand why your brain would be trying to make the connection, but in this case, there really is no connection to make. Both franchises share the fantasy genre, but they diverge rather massively from that point on. Try resisting the urge to lean on your knowledge of Skyrim. A blank slate (no reference point at all) would actually be much better in this case.
Oh damn! hahaha. Well okay, I understand, I'll try my best then, to just take the story as it is and gather all my knowledge from within the story.
Cleared for light duty. What horrors of Drow society will he witness while carrying items here and there, what dark threats will he overhear while scrubbing the floors, and of course, what attention will he attract while doing so?
JustKindaCurious wrote: 2 weeks ago
And so it begins. It's apparent how different humans and drow handle emotions. Elias actually formed some kind of one sided attachment to the guard and considered actually thanking him for just doing his job. No drow would probably even think about that.
The hawkish eyes of his keepers might no longer be so rigidly trained on him, but no longer will Elias have the safety of a cell and a guard to keep him from other, more dreadful, eyes...
The distinction between the humanity of actions is a really interesting continued throughline for this story. You can really tell that Elias is a resilient and intelligent individual. There are plenty of spirited and less cunning humans who would have faltered to the Duergar and even worse to the Drow
GIVEN THAT THIS TALE IS DIFFERENT FROM THE REST OF MY WORKS AND THAT IT MAY NOT BE OF INTEREST TO MANY READERS, I'M GOING TO RELY ON THE NUMBER OF COMMENTS I GET TO GAUGE THE AMOUNT OF INTEREST THERE IS. IF YOU ENJOY WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO READ, PLEASE LET ME KNOW BY SIGNALLING YOUR PRESENCE IN THE COMMENTS.
ENSLAVED BY THE DROW
CHAPTER 10 - THE SHADOWING
The drow did not stoop to personally train Elias - at least, not at first. Being human, he was considered fragile, exotic, and, in the eyes of the house, a curiosity rather than a tool to be immediately pressed into rigourous labour.
Unlike most of the other slaves who toiled in the stables, workshops and basement, Elias was segregated and assigned to the servants’ wing - a dimly lit corridor lined with crowded chambers and musty storage spaces on the main complex's first floor.
The first week of his tenure as a servant was a routine of observing and quiet shadowing. In other words, training. The one tasked with teaching him the basics was a goblin named Klyk; small, wiry, and quick, but rather slow with words. Klyk’s vocabulary was rudimentary at best. His incomplete sentences were usually rough and broken, yet he moved through the first and second floors of the impressive complex with the precision of one who had survived many years in this place.
Klyk understood the house’s rhythm, its quirks and its mood rather well for a creature of limited intellect.
Elias followed the unassuming goblin's lead. He learned the cadence of the day; when to rise, when to eat, when to bow to passing drow. He carefully memorised the location of various supplies and cleaning equipment, observed the proper way to scrub floors, and watched Klyk make beds and fold linens with meticulous care. Even crude commands and mild rebukes such as "Here! Clean!" or "No touch that!" became important lessons in etiquette.
For the first few days, they worked side by side - scrubbing rooms, washing linens, and tending to the small but crucial duties that kept the estate’s first floor clean and functioning.
Gradually, their tasks were separated. Elias would clean one room while Klyk handled another, remaining close enough so that the human might pose his questions should some aspect of their duties suddenly become incomprehensible. The goblin’s impatient gestures, grunts and crude commands proved sufficient, and slowly, Elias was able to start weaning off of the surly creature's half-hearted guidance.
The young surfacer was required to report to the Quartermaster each evening, but the exchanges were very brief and merely for the sake of ensuring that basic protocols were being learned and successfully absorbed.
By the end of that first week, the shadowing was deemed complete. Elias now knew the basics; how to clean, where the equipment was stored, how to bow correctly, how to navigate the various areas, corridors and wings that comprised the first floor of the giant multi-levelled complex. With these foundations in place, he was finally given separate tasks, small but solitary responsibilities that marked the beginning of his life as a servant of House Druu'giir.
The young human was no longer a passive observer. He was expected to act, and to act correctly - though always under the watchful gaze of those who might punish even the slightest misstep.
Once his time shadowing Klyk came to an end, Elias’s days were filled with menial indoor servitude - an endless cycle of small, sometimes labourious tasks. He regularly found himself assigned to the kitchens; a cramped, hot space under the strict and watchful eye of the head cook, a temperamental duergar woman. Nothing could be done sloppily in her presence. Grain had to be sorted to exacting standards, dried fungi arranged by size and quality, vegetables scrubbed, utensils washed and polished, storerooms swept and bins refilled.
Though the work was repetitive, he began to understand the patterns of the house, the timing of meals, and how the kitchens had to operate like a well-oiled machine.
Elias and the other servants and skilled labourers ate twice a day. Meals were strictly scheduled, dictated entirely by the rhythm of the house rather than by hunger. Missing the appointed time, arriving late, or lingering unnecessarily in the designated eating area could result in harsh punishment. Snacking or taking extra portions was also forbidden unless explicitly sanctioned by a supervisor.
Sleep was similarly regimented. Servants were expected to rise well before the nobles, preparing chambers, cleaning corridors, and getting the kitchens ready. Elias made the mistake of rising late once. He had witnessed fellow slaves brutally whipped for less tardiness, yet his own punishment amounted only to a sharp smack on the back of the head and a stern rebuke before being ordered to wash and sent to his duties. The drow appeared unwilling to damage him, at least for the time being.
Bedtime came only after the evening chores were completed. It took place in the crowded quarters of the servants' wing, where comfort was scarce and privacy nonexistent. Servants generally slept on the floor for little more than six hours each night - the rest of their time consumed by ceaseless work.
Punctuality aside, cleanliness and personal hygiene were also regarded as critical for those working close to the drow.
Elias, with only two grey tunics, learned quickly the importance of maintaining them spotless, washing them carefully and keeping his hair, face, and teeth as presentable as he could. Even small lapses in appearance drew disapproval from senior slaves and watchful guards.
Being the only human in the house brought its own set of burdens. Elias was often subjected to a puzzling mixture of harsh glares and lewd stares from the drow soldiers. He was a curiosity to be disdained, observed and assessed. Even amongst the other slaves, he found himself faced with distrust, mockery, and resentment.
Despite the constant revilement from all who laid eyes upon him, Elias proved hardworking and quick to learn. He mastered his chores with diligence, and his movements carried a grace that most of the goblinoid races who toiled alongside him lacked. This competence inadvertently had for effect of highlighting the shortcomings of other servants, many of whom could not match his speed or precision.
Murmurs of irritation, resentment, and envy quickly spread among them. Even Klyk grew noticeably colder once the shadowing was over. Only Grilka, the old orc woman who had once bathed him, continued to show Elias a measure of warmth.
Grilka tried to warn the boy against becoming too good at what he did. She tried to warn him about working too quickly and too efficiently, but he wouldn't listen. The lad was determined to prove himself. Determined to be seen. Determined to be noticed.
In a human city, that might've been a good way of seeking advancement. But down here, in the city of the drow, standing out only invited scrutiny. And scrutiny, in Menzoberranzan, was seldom a good thing.
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), while the Drow are depicted as being physically stunning.
