Drow beds are luxuriously soft and cushioned, perfectly crafted for stability and comfort. Built to last through just about any kind of strenuous activity, and made from adamantine steel, Drow beds are among the most stable in all the Realms.

Unfortunately, the one in Phaere's bedroom was currently creaking as if screaming for mercy and was on the verge of collapse.

"Please mistress," a hapless male Drow on the verge of physical and mental collapse whimpered as he lay prone on the bed while his mistress sat on top of him and moved as wildly as she possibly could. "Please, mistress, no more, I beg of you!"

"Silence, worm!" Phaere shouted back as she even increased her wild movements. "You're suppose to pleasure me, but I'M NOT NOTICING MUCH!"

"Mistress," the male whined. "I am about to... to die!!"

Phaere increased her movements even more, but suddenly let out a cry of intense anger. The male found himself being kicked off the bed and landing on the soft rug that lined the floor of Phaere's private chambers on top of the inn-spire. "OUT THEN! Leave, you worthless male! And do not return on pain of death!"

"Yes, mistress," the horrified male spoke genuinely thankful for his escape, gathered his clothes and ran towards the door. "Thank you, mistress!"

Phaere lay back on her bed, even more angry and frustrated than before. "They don't make males like they used to," she sighed. "I'm STILL frustrated and look at me, I'm not even sweaty!"

That was the cue for a servant to enter with Phaere's spider-silk bathrobe. Phaere cocked a smile at the timid girl. She didn't usually have servants running around to wait on her, but she was feeling somewhat vainglorious today.

"Shall I run a bath for you, mistress Phaere?" the girl asked.

"No. I am expected by my mother," Phaere spat the words. "Dress me," she commanded.

Immediately, the girl scrambled to find Phaere's articles of clothing which she scattered across the room. One by one, the maid meticulously dressed her mistress in the clothing she could find, from undergarments to tunic to breast-plate.

"Is... is there anything else you desire, mistress Phaere?" the girl trembled, being eager to please.

"Yes," Phaere said. "No doubt my visit to my mother will be extremely frustrating, so I'd like a cold drink and a warm dinner waiting for me when I return."

"Yes, mistress," the girl nodded. "I will inform the kitchen."

"Good," Phaere chuckled as she walked to the door. "Oh, and get rid of the male currently cowering on the balcony. Stupid git ran towards the wrong door trying to get away from me."

The girl snickered for a moment and Phaere was out the door. The right door.

A brief visit to the marketplace outside the inn didn't yield any really interesting items for purchase, so after killing some time browsing around a few stalls, she decided to head to her mother, who had summoned her to come to her immediately... But, immediately was already three hours ago, so she decided to deliberately waste some more time.

Pausing before heading onto the southern walkways, she leaned on the railing of a small stone bridge suspended over a small river of lava. It afforded her an excellent view of the inn, hewn into a gigantic stone spire almost two-hundred meters high and 40 meters wide at the base, 30 at the middle. It was her business, her life's work, her greatest accomplishment.

And to think how close she had come to becoming one of those stuffy and backward priestesses of Lolth, so trapped in a cage made by their own rituals and traditions. She remembered that night quite often : the night that had changed everything. After having been initiated for three weeks in Arach-Tilith, Phaere had returned home to pack the last of her things to move to the dorm at the academy. Instead, she had wandered along and found her mother, the 'esteemed' Matron Ardulace berating her youngest daughters... her little sisters. Sinvyl and Vinvyl were twins, a rare birth to Drow, and back then they had been only 8 years old and were to be sent to the temple torture chambers. Their crimes? During their a written recitation of the Drow alphabet, Sinvyl had misplaced a stripe in one of the last symbols. Vinvyl had tried to cover for her when Sinvyl had been found out. So, matron Ardulace wanted her children punished in the most heinous possible way... Not so much because of their mistake, but because they had tried to help each other out.

Phaere had stepped between her mother's whip and the shivering children huddling together on the floor. She was 42 then, thought she could take the world... thought she could dissuade her mother from sending her youngest children to the torture-chambers, something that they would both probably not survive. It was this sheer wastefulness of Drow society that she had always loathed.

But she was wrong. The whip meant for the children had now hit her... and again and again and again. After that, Phaere had been sent to the torture-chambers in her sisters' stead. There she endured horrible anguish at the eager hands of the Handmaidens of Lolth. Terrible pains... Horrible suffering... Terror beyond belief. These priestesses had enjoyed their only purpose in life. Phaere endured seemingly endless tortures. Unimaginable physical, mental and -she couldn't suppressed a brief involuntary shudder- ... sexual abuse. All the while she had been treated to the handmaidens fanatical rhetoric of the Spider Queen. The tortures had never broke her, however. In fact, she had focused her hate and directed it towards the foul religion of the Spider Queen. She began to hate the tyrannical devotion without reason. She began to hate the unquestioning loyalty that the Spider Queen demanded.

The session had taken two weeks, she had been told later, but she had felt like she was a hundred years older afterwards. Older and wiser, with a new perspective on life and existence. At the time the problems her mother was having with a lower-ranking House provided a cover for her escape. She dropped out of Arach-Tilith, stole her younger sisters from the house and fled to the Female Fighter's Guild to study weaponcraft and mage-craft instead of the priesthood of Lolth. But soon, opportunity knocked. One of the older fighters owned a small rather unsuccessful inn and was looking to sell quickly as she was moving to Menzoberranzan. Phaere decided to take the risk, sold all her meager belongings and moved into the small inn at the bottom of the large spire. There, she and her sisters did their best to make their small business flourish.

Of course, by the time Ardulace found out her daughters were gone, it was too late to do anything about it. Every Drow in Ust Natha and possibly beyond already knew about Phaere's new life through her aggressive advertising campaign. To have them dragged back to House Despana would have meant a public humiliation for the First Matron, something she could not afford.

Phaere enjoyed her life as a businesswoman. Trade was a completely different enterprise from being in the priesthood. But Ust Natha had always been a small city, away from most other Drow communities. Mostly due to trickery and deceit, Phaere lured traders to the city, and with success. Conquered goods, rothe, wines and other foods were soon exported throughout the Underdark and trade flourished. Soon, Phaere sought to expand her inn to accommodate all the visitors. The inn grew and grew and finally became a pleasure center that had become almost a household name in Drow society. Her sisters weren't the brainiest, but she was quite fond of them. They were young adults of 92 years now. Vindyl ran the staff with diligence, while Sindyl ran a tight ship with the pleasure chambers.

Phaere smiled and looked at her accomplishment : The Three Sisters Spire. The spire was visible from every part of the city, and towered over the compounds of even the most powerful houses. And she accomplished it all without offering even a single prayer to Lolth.

Phaere had great plans for the future, and even sought to tap a previously untapped market : tourism. Hoping to capitalize on the reputation of the Underdark on the surface, she hoped to lure wealthy surfacers to her to be built 'Underdark Adventure Inns' for a fun-packed dangerous holidays (and would not be held responsible for accidental deaths resulting from having brains eaten by Mindflayers, getting petrified by Beholders or getting stabbed by irate Drow priestesses.) But there was also something she liked to call The Great Deal. The deal of her lifetime...

Unfortunately, her mother was the wrench in the machinery. Her and her damn war... Trade had become restricted, her profits were dwindling, as were her food-supplies and she was forced to sell her wares to the Drow war effort at wholesale prices... Well, -she grinned-, almost wholesale prices. Having fake ledgers do help a lot when nosy priestesses come to steal your supplies.

Phaere sighed, and considered it might be time to head over to her mother now...

"The temple of Lolth," Phaere snorted as she approached the ominous building in the middle of the city, way above the canyon, and noted with pleasure that it was covered in darkness by the shadow of the Three Sisters Spire. "She's always here. I wonder if she moved it."

The guards bowed their heads and let Phaere pass. There, in the middle of the large and high foyer, stood First Matron Ardulace, that same scowl on her face which she had had all her life. Phaere had a striking resemblance to her mother. Still, the old matron was gaunt and frail. The first yellow hairs were starting to show, and Ardulace had great difficulty hiding a limp when she walked. Still, in her robes, she made a striking presence in the room.

"Praise be Lolth," Ardulace spoke. "You have finally arrived."

"I am a busy woman," Phaere snarled. "Please be quick about your request so I can get back to do really important things."

"Lolth IS important, fool child!" Ardulace chided. "The glory of Lolth is all to her power! She is our mother and we are her children."

Phaere felt the urge to spit on the floor, but decided against it for now.

"So," Matron Mother Ardulace began. "There three of you are still inside that spire? Pheh! It is unnatural! Three Drow noble sisters... working together in peace, not trying to gain personal advantage! Do you even realize how that makes me look to the other matrons?!"

"I wouldn't know," Phaere chuckled under her breath. Apparently, Matron Scivva, Ardulace's biggest rival, had been chiding her again.

"WHAT CAN'T YOU JUST KILL EACH OTHER LIKE NORMAL DROW DO?!" Ardulace screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Because this works better?" Phaere asked and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, great Lolth!" Ardulace raised her arms to the statue of a spider with a beautiful Drow female's head. "Why must my children shame me so?!"

"Can you please get to the point now?" Phaere asked.

"Ah, yes. Lolth demands tribute. For the war-effort, you are required to bring more food-supplies to the front from your foodstores."

"Excellent," Phaere spoke. "That will be 20 gold a food packet, plus 10 gold per head for the sending. Each. Payable up front."

"My dear," Ardulace sighed. "You clearly have no understanding of the term 'tribute', do you?"

"Oh, no!" Phaere snarled. "No,no,no,no,no,no,no,no! I have lowered my prices already, but I will not give our hard-earned profits to you. You will pay for the food just like any other Drow!"

"Lolth demands you to obey! We must fight the war against the wicked surface elves!"

"Then pay me! Then there will be no problem."

Ardulace sighed. "I... I spent most of our house's funds on weapons and mercenaries. The war isn't going well and I have no more funds give. So, I must take it and, in Lolth's name, I will have it."

"Then the war will end!" Phaere snarled. "Open up the trade-routes again and let the city flourish!"

"No!" Ardulace smiled. "Irenicus has given me a way to turn the tide in this war, and I will win it. In Lolth's name! Oh, great Lolth, mother of our race! Savior of our people!"

"Bane of my profit," Phaere muttered.

"I can simply take your supplies," Ardulace snarled. "And then I will take all!"

"No, you won't," Phaere smiled. "Because you NEED me. If I go under, so goes the Spire and then the entire economy will collapse. You won't be able to pay our soldiers, or feed our people. Your armies will be defeated, the surface scum will knock on our door and the matrons of the lesser houses will be looking for a scapegoat. If I go down, the reign of matron Ardulace Despana will end with your broken corpse being tossed into the magma pit. No, Matron Mother, not a single scrap of food will you get from me unless you pay for it."

"I... I will remember this insult, Phaere. Believe me, I will. You will PAY for this, I swear to Lolth you will pay for this insult!" Ardulace snapped, the veins in her neck almost popping.

"Pay?" Phaere smiled as she turned her back. "Yes, I'd pay real money if you'd shut up once in a while. You can get your supplies... but bring money."

Satisfied with herself, Phaere left her fuming mother behind in the temple.

Phaere greeted the giant guardians as she left the city and walked into the Underdark. Normally, she would go with an escort, but the gnome village was only a few steps away, and Phaere was well trained in the arts of combat.

She was eager to return to her handmaiden to blow off some steam, but she felt she needed to check on the gnomes herself. They might have news, and if she promised to smuggle food to their camp, they would probably be more receptive to their role in The Great Deal when the war would be over and done with already. The Great Deal was important, and the role of the gnomes would be crucial to her plans...

Sadly, Phaere didn't get far. Suddenly, without warning, she felt her body freeze up until she could not move a single muscle. A spell, she realized too late, but the source was unclear. The gut wrenching sensation of teleportation followed, and a fearful Phaere suddenly realized where she was now standing : right in front of the ending of the Mindflayer city!! Normally, she would enter under a flag of truce with an entourage, but she feared that a frozen Drow outside the city would be too much for one of those brain-eaters to resist... She only hoped that the spell would wear off before one of the mindflayers would turn her into a snack.

"Well, this is the place," Imoen said as the party stood in front of a very, very dark passage leading down. "Got the light gem?"

"Och, I be tossin' it on me pile," Korgan chuckled as he took out the huge bag of gems he had swindled the gnomes out of in a cardgame. "We be filthy rich now, ey?"

"Oh, yes," Jan smiled. "But then again, I'm rich too you know? Yeah, I have enough money to last me a lifetime! Ermm, provided I don't buy anything, of course."

"Oh, great," Dynaheir spoke. "Those gems all look alike! How art thou ever going to find the light-gem now?"

"Easy," Korgan said as he held open the bag and a bright light banished the darkness. "We be just openin' the bleedin' bag, missy."

"Ah," Dynaheir and Imoen replied sheepishly.

The long winding stairs led to a huge cavern, lit by almost unnaturally glowing lichen on the walls. Crystals lined the blue wall, and in the middle of the room lay a huge pile of gold and magic items. But the most impressive thing in a room was a large creature with a skin as reflecting as brightly as the sun. A venerable silver dragon looked down upon the party with a kindly look in her reptilian eyes.

"Welcome, welcome to my lair. I have watched your progress with great interest," the dragon's voice boomed through the cavern.

"A dragon! Yippeeee!" sounded from the party. Immediately, Laska stepped forward and drew one of her blades. Then, with scowling face and deep voice, she said : "Let's go."

"LASKA!" sounded from everyone at once.

"Come on!" Laska said. "I wanna fight!"

The dragon blinked, but then continued. "Anyway, I am Adalon, the guardian, and I have done my duty as well as I have been able for many a century. I was not the first, but I know the history."

"Wow," Imoen gasped. "You're beautiful."

"No, no, no, dragon!" Laska grinned. "You're UGLY! Ugly, ugly, ugly, oogly, OOOOOGGGGGLLLYYYYY! Come on, fight!"

"NUTCASE!" Keldorn snarled and yanked Laska to the back of the party by the scruff of her armor.

"Riiiggghhht," the dragon sighed. "Continuing. My charge is the elven ruins above, an ancient temple that marks the gateway to the Underdark. There are others elsewhere, but this was the first. The temple marks where the elves of dark hearts first descended, truly separating from Elven kind and becoming Drow."

"The... the first?" Viconia gasped. "Can... can that be true? I mean, every Drow settlement claims to be the first, but... I've never known the truth. Can... can this place really be the origin of the Drow race? Of my race?"

"Yes, it is," the dragon snarled at Viconia. "It's amazing how little you Drow hear despite those big ears on the side of your heads."

"Hey," Imoen scowled. "Leave Viconia alone."

"We dragons were placed here by the ancient elves and Drow alike to keep the peace between the communities. Until recently, both Drow and elves were content with that peace that my lineage guarded."

"Until recently, you say, madam?" Minsc asked. "Boo thinks he's not going to like what you have to say next."

"Ever since the ambitious Ardulace rose to power, she has been exploring ways to start a war with Suldenesselar... and she has now succeeded because I cannot honor the agreement anymore."

"Let me GO!" Laska shouted as she tore herself free. "Come on, ugly fat poof! Let's fight now! Come on, let's go! I'll gut you!!!"

"Silence!" the targeted dragon roared. "I... I will tell you when you may speak. This is a VERY important matter, and I will not be interrupted."

"Don't mind her," Dynaheir spoke. "She... she is insane and needs help."

"WHAT?! I don't need help! I just wanna..."

"Laska!" Korgan snarled. "Ye be shuttin' the bloody 'ell up! I nay becomin' a steamin' pile o'dragon shite because of yer idiocy! At least nay before I be 'avin' a chance to actually spend some o'these gems! HAR!"

"The two you seek, this Bodhi and Jon Irenicus, I believe they have made a deal with the Drow for their own safe passage and offered a way to tip the scales against their Elven enemy," the dragon continued unabashed.

"CRAP!" Laska snarled. "They're already gone?! Oh, crud... Well, then I'll just have to settle for killing you, lizard-breath!"

"GRAB HER!" Keldorn shouted. After a brief struggle, Minsc ended up sitting on top of her belly, while Imoen and Dynaheir sat on either arm, while Korgan and Keldorn sat on each leg.

"Why won't you let me fight the dragon, you bastards?!" Laska shouted just before Viconia gagged her.

"You may ask why I do not extend my influence. I cannot. Irenicus bargained with my most prized possession. He violated my lair and stole from me. They have taken my eggs."

"Caught ye sleepin', ey?" Korgan chuckled.

"Do I need to gag you too?" Viconia threatened.

"I have been informed that to move from my lair is to cause the destruction of my eggs," the dragon was close to weeping. "Ardulace has gone too far this time."

"Boo shakes with disbelief! Such a crime will not go unanswered!" Minsc roared.

"You must retrieve them for me. Do this, and I will reveal a safe escape route to leave the Underdark, one that emerges close to where Bodhi plots her next move," the Great dragon spoke.

"Humph," Viconia snorted. "Why don't you ask my friends to walk straight into a meat grinder while you're at it?"

"I realize the danger of the request, but I do not ask you to simply assault the place. No, there is a much more subtle way to succeed. You will take the identity of a group of Drow I dispatched recently, a party from another city destined for Ust Natha."

"I must confess that I do not find that appealing," Keldorn sighed while Laska once again tried to wriggle out from under him.

"Was that a crack about my race?" Viconia narrowed her eyes.

"I will transform you, and you will be able to pass among the Drow with ease. They will not see through the fiction I create. When you arrive at the gate, tell them you are from the city of Ched Nasad, and that you seek sanctuary within Ust Natha. They are in the turmoil of war at the moment and will overlook much. They will not turn away extra hands. You might also consult the Drow you travel with. I'm sure she will be a fountain of knowledge. She has an interest in not being discovered, I understand. Viconia, is it not? You are a rogue and as much reviled by the Drow and any surface dweller. Still, if you seek redemption and betray me I will end your life."

"Hey!" Imoen stood defiantly and snaked her arm through Viconia's. "Vic won't betray us! Never in a million years! Right, Vic?"

"You need not threaten me," Viconia said. "Just see to the transformation."

"You will not be discovered by any other means than your own mistakes, so be careful not to make them. Let the spell begin."

That said, the cavern was suddenly bathing in a bright light, but when the dust settled... everything was different.

"Wow!" Imoen smiled as she watched her own body. "My hands... my skin! Wow, I've never been this slender before!" she felt her ears. "Wow! Pointy! Hey, Vic! How do I look as a Drow?"

Viconia regarded Imoen, and for a moment, she seemed to be miles away. "Stunning," she finally whispered.

"Your hair!" Dynaheir spoke. "It's still pink!"

"Hmmm," the dragon spoke. "There are some things my magic cannot even alter."

"A pink-haired Drow," Viconia said. "Oh, well, just hide that ready smile of yours and you'll do fine... More than fine..."

"My scars are gone," Keldorn said as he felt his face.

"Yes," the dragon spoke. "Drow with scars are stigmatized and attract attention."

"Hey, Boo says I'm shorter!"

"Bloody donkey-bollocks!" Korgan roared. "I be taller! Change me back at bloody once!"

"Hmmm," Dynaheir spoke. "Just somewhat darker than usual, I guess... though I like my new hips."

"Ho, ho," Jan grinned. "I'm a Drow and I can still eat as many turnips as I like! Joy!"

"AAAHHH!" Laska snarled and jumped up, pushing the others away. "My tattoos!" said shouted while starting to strip off all her armor and clothing. "I swear, if my tattoos are gone, you and I are going to TANGLE, dragon!"

Finally, she stood naked in the cavern, closely inspecting her tattoos now on obsidian skin. Her body was shaped exactly the same, safe for hair and skin-color and to her relief, most of her tattoos were still intact.

"I changed the hue of some tattoos to make them seem like they were done in the Underdark," the dragon spoke. "The blue dragon on your hip and upper leg is now a Deep Dragon. The elven symbol above your navel is now the symbol of Drow vengeance. And I think you might have a hard time explaining the moonblade on your arm and the branch on your leg. So I changed the blade into a wicked one of Drow design and the branch into a webbing. It works well, I suppose."

"Hey, my tats are my soul!" Laska challenged. "You can't just go around and change them!"

"Nevertheless, that is how it shall be. Now go and retrieve my eggs."

"Heya!" Imoen grinned as she skipped around. "I'm a Drow, I'm a Drow, I'm a Drow, I'm a Drow, I'm a Drow, I'm a Drow, I'm a Drow, I'm a Drow, I'm a Drow, I'm a Drow, I'm a Drow, I'm a Drow!"

Keldorn and Minsc looked positively silly next to their huge two-handed swords. And a Drow with a hamster was not to be taken seriously. Then there was a skipping Drow, a Drow with a dwarven accent and a Drow with obscenely long and inane stories. Not to mention a naked maniacal Drow who wanted to fight with everybody.

Viconia buried her head in her hands. "This is never going to work," she sighed.