Faern’ya smiled wryly and nodded. “It always seems to blindside you. At least, that’s been my experience. Thanks you. I –”
She broke off and laughed, shaking her head as she gently stroked the spirit’s snout. “Oh, I haven’t been one of HERS since the day I was born. My mother hoped I would be called by Mystra or Azuth.” She chuckled, and her hand glowed, not with healing energy, but with the feeling of acceptance and calm. “Instead, I was called by Jergal. A good thing, too. He has taught me that even those things that take us by surprise can be of use, as long as they are in accord with nature’s way.”
She crouched and put her hand on the ground, closed her eyes, and, after a moment, shuddered. “What has happened here, on the other hand, is not the way.” She stood, swaying as if she’d just sprinted a mile, and braced herself on her staff. “Twitch, honey?”
A spider, shaped like a black widow but with a white belly and blue back, and the size of a great dane, appeared from nowhere. She stroked behind its eyes, and it crouched, making happy crooning noises. “Bring me one of the humans in the noisy stinking machines. Alive, hon. You can have one for yourself if you want, but bring me one alive. I want to … talk … with him.”
The spider vanished again, and she looked up at the spirit. “Let’s see if we can find whoever is ordering them to do what they’ve done. I’ve often found that decapitation is faster and leaves less of a mess than chewing up the enemy starting at the feet and hands.”
She gave Faern’ya a curious look as she explained herself. Strange… Were times changing, or was this a unique phenomenon amongst the Drow? As far as the Spirit could recall, mortals who were gifted magics were usually gifted to them by the patrons they either worshipped or worked for. Strange indeed…
The magics used weren’t what She expected - nothing of the restorative nature, at least in closing up physical wounds. Still, it changed the Spirit. Her antlers became less barbed, Her one visible eye glowing a softer orange instead of the harsh red. The calmness was clearly helping.
The Spirit’s snout moved away from Faern’ya’s hand as soon as the giant spider appeared. Was it perhaps one of those Phase Spiders She had heard tales of, back when She was mortal? It seemed to be so, as it disappeared once again. She’d never seen one before - they do not dwell within these woods. Not even when She was mortal.
“Hmm… It seems you are well-versed in death dealing,” She observed. “Such is a part of the balance, I suppose. Your bond with… Twitch. It is quite strong. How long have you two had each other’s company?”
Faern’ya gave the spirit a tired smile and nodded, still leaning on her staff. “Too well-versed, it feels some days. I’d much rather be in my abbey, keeping track of the people who live around it and properly accounting for them as they cross over. Instead, it seems as if every time I leave the abbey, I run into something that requires me to intervene.”
At the mention of the spider, she nodded and looked into the distance. “Twitch... was barely old enough to control her bite when I found her in the ruins of my family’s home. I led her to one of the assassins hunting me, and she’s been with me ever since.” A tear trickles down her cheek and she rubs it away. “That’s what Lolth does to drow who don’t serve her. I live only because Jergal gives me the ability to protect myself.”
She glanced around. “Speaking of which, are there any of the invaders laying around, preferably mostly intact? It doesn’t matter if the ants and beetles have already got to them.”
