The Triad

The woman lets out a low chuckle. "Look, sister. An intelligent darthiir. Well. Lolth wishes to meet with the lot of you also." Her gaze passes over Alalla and the rest. "Will you come with us?"

Zenithral studies the two, gauging what they mean when they say Lolth wants to speak with their group. He glances to his companions for their reactions. They likely wouldn't be lead along for a simple, friendly chat, but they have much of another choice, and Erevain already identified the drow as servants of Lolth.

He nods to the drow, then helps Halla to her feet, if she's still having trouble.

"Let me know if they communicate anything telepathically," he asks Fluphy.

Alalla stands, stepping up next to Erevain and staring down at the 'priestess'. She resists the urge to bear her tusks and snarl at the woman for touching Erevain.

She returns Zenithral's look with a wary one. That Lolth wants to speak to them is...unnerving. But they want to speak with her. They have little choice but to follow or go home.

"We will."

The yochlols smile, and for a second it looks as though their teeth are made of running yellow wax. Their crimson eyes betray little of their thoughts, but Zenithral recognizes the power struggle here.

Since they arrived, these two demons have done much to try to intimidate the party, but in the end they ask if the companions will come willingly.

Zenithral does not believe that the yochlols are confident in their ability to force this group of adventurers to do anything. Perhaps if Erevain had failed to resist that spell, their attitudes would be different.

"Then come! Come to the Demonweb Pits." One woman begins casting a spell. The other keeps her eyes trained on the companions.

Halla stirs in Zenithral's arms. "What... Drow!" She tries to begin a spell of her own, but then groans and clutches her head. "My staff..."

"Fenthick is waking up as well," Aribeth whispers. "Should we fight, or just go along with them? Who knows what spell that one is casting?"

"It's alright, they're not here to hurt us..." Zenithral says to Halla. He hands her the staff and helps her stand. He then carefully watches and listens to the caster's movements and sounds, but they're too foreign for him to identify.

He shakes his head to Aribeth. "They know the way, and if they are servants of Lolth, the Spider Queen won't take kindly if we try to kill her servants."

"...they're not here to hurt us..."

"Well, we don't know that," Alalla mutters. She continues louder. "Zenithral is right. I don't know of a better way to get to her. Just be ready."

Aribeth says nothing. She does nod firmly, however, eyes glued to the two demons.

Halla takes her staff and leans heavily on it, grumbling to herself. "...more elves..."

The yochlol finishes her casting, and the companions find themselves teleported once more. This time the landing is considerably more gentle, but there remains a torpid vileness in the air.

The two demons smile and gesture to the surroundings. "Welcome to the Demonweb Pits, mortals."

Spiders and their webs seem to be the most obvious theme. Thick strands of webbing make up walls, ceiling, and much of the floor that isn't made up of rotting wooden beams. In the cracks between floorboards are hints of more webbing, spiraling downwards into an ominous gray mist. Spiders of all sizes rest about this particular chamber, multiple eyes glittering in the light of torches. In the center of the chamber is a black altar on the back of a large stone spider, both of which overlook a dark pit. The altar is wet with blood.

One of the drow women sways gracefully past Zenithral. "Remember that you could not have come here except by the power of the Spider Queen. You are in her grasp, now. You would do well to be on your... best behavior."

That word seems to echo around the chamber, as if the chitinous mouthparts of every spider begin to repeat it.

Best... best... best...

One of the demon's eyes flashes a sickly, terrible red, then returns to normal a moment later. "You will wait here for further instructions."

Slowly, but with heart-aching beauty, the yochlols leave by one of the many web-wrapped tunnels.

"Cozy," Zenithral mutters while looking nervously about the chamber, trying to avoid staring at the two women.

The bloodied alter certainly wasn't a good sign, he notes after they leave. The archer studies the room, starting with the ceiling, looking for signs of danger, or places creatures might crawl or spring from, or other signs of what this chamber was really meant for.

"Well, we're here...I suppose we...wait? Be alert, he says, as if the others weren't already. "Aribeth, see if you can...sense anything hidden." Once again, he knew Alalla's divine senses were just as keen, and wouldn't be surprised if she opened them as well, but giving Aribeth a task, even an obvious one, could continue to build their group's feeling of cohesion.

"Already done," Aribeth murmurs. Her nose wrinkles. "This whole place reeks. But especially that." She points at the altar.

Fenthick groans and holds his head. He seems to have lost some of his usual calm. "Have we given any thought as to how we're supposed to leave this place? I... I feel so very distant from Tyr here..."

Erevain also looks at the blood-stained altar. "I had always heard of the sacrificial rites of the drow, but this is... terrible. The altar seems to have frequent use. And you see those shackles? They say that female surface elves make the best sacrifices. Thank Torm we haven't got any of those." His eyes flick to Aribeth, considering. "Not full-blooded ones..."

Halla sniffs. "I don't know what's wrong with you people. 'Tis a fine enough place. Erm... aside from the altar, that is..."

She taps her lip, then moves away from the group and toward one of the webbed walls and the spiders there. A simple druidic spell flows from her lips, one meant to let her speak with animals. She squats down by a cat-sized spider with dripping fangs. A few moments later she backs away, hands unconsciously wiping at her skirts.

"Tis no simple beast. None of them are. They have been fed on the blood of elves and eladrin, and they crave little else." She looks at the elf-kin among them. "I would not draw too close to any of them."

Alalla takes Aribeth's word for her assessment, reserving her own resources for later. Looking around at the spiders and the altar, Al steps closer to Erevain. He's already been sacrificed to spiders once.

"What happens to the souls of the sacrificed?" Alalla wonders aloud. She has the uneasy feeling Lolth may demand such a sacrifice for the information they seek.

At Fenthick's comments, Zenithral shrugs, unnerved as well. "We didn't know how we'd get in either, but I'm sure we'll figure something out. Halla, do you, by chance, still have power enough to leave this plane if we need to?"

Erevain shrugs. "Elvish souls are nebulous things. I don't know what happens to them. I would guess that it would not be pleasant, however..."

Halla nods. "I am certain that I could get us back to Kuldahar. However..." Some of that same fear returns to her eyes. "I do not think the key Corellon - " Hisses from the spiders in the room drown her out for a moment. "Ahem...the key from that other god worked properly. It was almost as if we were about to arrive at out destination, and we were shoved off to one side. Perhaps Lolth herself sensed our coming and diverted us. If she has that sort of power over her domain... perhaps I don't have the power to get us home after all..."