Hello everyone! I added a prologue, I hope you enjoy it! I now have more time to work on my re-telling (sort-of...there will be differences P) of HoTU. So please, R&R and I will continue updating! I'll be making changes here and there on parts of the game I thought were boring and that would be less-than-exciting to read, so don't be surprised if things change a bit, mwahaha. Anyway, enjoy!
Prologue: A Call to Arms
It was dark as ink in the lavish room. Nothing had moved since its resident had left; the glass of wine from earlier in the day still sat on a short table near a tall four-posted bed. Not even dust had touched it. Suddenly, candles were lit in various ornate sconces on the wall. A fire burst to life instantly in a covered fireplace on the west side of the room, the carvings around it depicting a scene from Faerun's past flashing in the flames. It was a scene of mages and demons fighting to the death. The dark wooden door swung open and the black-haired Lord walked in comfortably, dressed in purple and blue silk robes and holding important-looking parchment scrolls bound together in his clenched fist. He sighed. It had been a difficult day, money had been spent, enemies had been made, and with the sudden and un-spoken disappearance of one of his good, and powerful friends, things had been visibly tense.
He threw the parchment on the table as he walked in and fell onto his bed. He was glad to be back to his home, back to his family. He assumed they were asleep, he always returned late after meetings and his wife must have fallen asleep in the room with the baby. He stood up, thinking that he should check on her and bring her back to bed. He pictured his wife, a hard-working priestess herself, asleep next to their youngest child. He smiled at the scene in his mind. It was his last thought.
She watched him from the darkness. She watched him move, set down his parchment, fall to the bed. She was standing a breath away from him and he knew nothing of her presence. The drow smiled as she reached for her dagger, the blood from the two children and the female already stuck to the piercing blade. In one swift movement the mage fell, the dagger making quick work of his life in the expert hands of the drow assassin. But the mage, being clever as he was, had set a spell on his robe, one that would cause his killer to be turned to stone if the steel of a dagger ever cut the soft silk. The blade flashed in the light as the drow began to freeze, realizing her mistake. The sequencer robe had done its job, the drow had frozen, her dagger piercing through the mage's back one last time as she froze solid, her red eyes glaring into nothing but the faces of carved monsters.
The magical fire suddenly flickered out and the room became dark again. Like a scene from the fireplace, the dead mage and the drow lied motionless in the gloom locked in battle; blood covering the ground like wine.
A few days later the remaining Lords of Waterdeep called for help. The swiftest horses and most powerful spells were used to summon a hero to fight the invisible menace of the drow to their source, deep in the dungeon of Undermountain. Their call was answered. Heroes from all over the Sword Coast poured in, most never even making it to the Yawning Portal before being accosted by thugs or thieves preying on poorly-equipped adventurers and their expensive wares.
Something had to be done, and soon. Or the consequences to the city would be irreparable…
Orela Vash took one of the many parchments from the distressed messenger and handed it to her raven, who quickly placed it into the warn bag of holding at her side. She knew she was running again, but she also knew she was doing something good. Waterdeep needed help with drow. And after shadows…Orela could handle drow. She fingered the warm relic in her pocket, smooth and flawless, like bone. No…she was far from being done with her adventures.