Malaggar T'sarran: Child of Darkness

"What is your vocation?" The dark elf mistress stood over a male drow at the end of a line, whip in her hand, ready to strike should he answer incorrectly - too slowly - or even just lacking in enthusiasm. Without skipping a beat, the young male bowed his head and responded "Jaluk."

The mistress smirked, and walked over to the next drow knelt down in line, repeating her question. Like the last, he bowed his head and responded quickly; "Jaluk." Again, and again, Mistress Z'ress Telenna stood over her slaves, asked their vocation, and each answered correctly and swiftly to avoid punishment. That is, until she stood over a boy no older than five in age. Small of frame, and starved, the boy kept his head down as the mistress asked her question. "What is your vocation, boy?" The mistress repeated herself, as she prepared to bring her whip down on the child. But to her surprise, he showed a level of defiance she had not witnessed in a very long time. The boy raised his head and stared her directly in the eyes. How dare he look upon her face as though he were an equal? A male child, and a slave at that. His punishment would be more severe than the whip.

Z'ress dragged the frail boy down the corridor to a trap door. "Down here you will learn your worth - or you will perish. Think long and hard on your answer, slave." With that, the Mistress opened the trap door, and shoved the boy down into a pit. As the trap door was closed, all light disappeared. Even his drow eyes could not pierce the magical darkness of this space. Frantic, the boy felt his way around, eager to find a way out, but to no avail. All he could find was a ledge, with no indication of how far it might drop. He was trapped. Hours passed. Hope faded. Even at his young age, the boy understood this hole was destined to be his tomb.

In the darkness every sensation began to feel more vivid. The lack sound caused the boy to become aware of his own heartbeat, and the creaking of his malnourished bones. The lack of food sent waves of great pain through his body. He wished for it to end; for the endless reverie to take him. But then, a whisper.

"The darkness is where we find strength."

The boy looked around. Still he could see nothing, but he was certain he'd heard the voice of a female whisper to him. Was it a trick of the mistress? An attempt to indoctrinate him to her will?

"Despair will be your weapon."

The boy's breathing quickened. This was not his mistress. The mistress' voice brought him only disgust, while this voice was magnetic. He wished to hear more. He whispered "Who is there?"

There was no response.

Hours passed once more, and the blindness and pain grew ever maddening.

Suddenly, the trap door opened. Light pierced the magical darkness at last as it shone down on the boy. He looked up, and saw his mistress there standing over the hole. "What is your vocation?" She asked with venom in her tone.

The boy weighed his options, but found himself once more staring defiantly at the mistress without giving an answer.

She sneered at first, then smirked. He hadn't suffered enough. A few days in the darkness would fix that - or kill him. Either way, the life of young Malaggar T'sarran meant little to her. She slammed the trap door shut once more, leaving the boy in darkness yet again.

"The darkness is where we find strength." Malaggar whispered the words to himself as he laid in agony. Slowly he felt his hand along the ground until he touched a small loose stone. He grabbed it in his fist and tossed it towards the ledge he had discovered earlier.

A second passed, and then a clunk as it hit a deeper cavern below. It didn't sound so far away, perhaps he could jump down? And what if it was too far? It would only mean his suffering was over.

The young drow boy crawled over towards the ledge, and dropped down feet-first. It was a short drop indeed, but the hard stone below did sting his feet. Falling over he winced heavily. But there was no time to waste. His energy was fading, and he needed to find a way out of here. He crawled along the stone, exploring this new, wider cavern. After a few minutes, he felt his hand splash into a puddle. Quickly he began to scoop water up from it, drinking it despite its foul taste.

As he sated his thirst, he sat down in the darkness and closed his eyes. That's when he heard it. The pitter patter of small feet. He moved his hand quickly and grasped something small and covered in fur. He didn't care what it was, even as it screeched and clawed at his tender flesh. He sank his teeth into its body until the furry little creature became quiet and still. He sated his hunger on its raw flesh.

With his belly full, the boy laid back on the stone and closed his eyes once more. He slipped into reverie.

Darkness peeled away slowly to reveal a most beautiful, dark skinned female before him. She sat naked over Malaggar. There was something motherly about it - though Malaggar was unfamiliar with the notion and merely stared at her in awe. Slowly she took him up into her arms, and whispered. "So quickly has the darkness given you strength, and already you reap its rewards."

Malaggar nodded slowly. He felt at ease in her presence. His despair hadn't faded, his situation hadn't changed, but yet he felt numb to it. Accepting of it. Somehow her presence made him not care if this place would be his end.

"Your defiance is refreshing. But you're not strong enough to win - yet."

"I do not wish to be a slave..." Malaggar whispered.

"Nor shall you be. But you will pretend. You will learn guile. And when the time is right, you will be free."

"You promise" Malaggar whispered hopefully.

"Nothing is promised. It is taken."

Malaggar's eyes opened and were met with darkness once more. Though he was the only one there, he knew he was no longer alone.

Slowly the boy made his way back up the ledge to where his mistress had cast him down. There he waited. Hours passed. Then days. He grew weak once more.

The trap door opened, and his mistress stood once again over the opening. She expected to find the boy dead, but to her surprise there he was, covered in scrapes, with bits of dry blood and fur around his hands and mouth. She did her best to hide how startling the sight was, as she asked "What is your vocation?"

The boy remembered the words spoken to him in the darkness. He whispered.

"Jaluk."