[Necromancing the Stone]

The war was over.

House Dhalmass had been left a smoking wreckage.  It's bid to rise in Drow society at the expense of House Lueltar, had failed.  Matron Mother Chandara lay dead at the hands of her own daughter, Matron Dhaune.  The remnants of their house fled Ched Nassad, arriving in Sshurrlynder. They had tried subterfuge, assassination, political espionage, all at a grand scale..... and been undone by only one thing: fighting prowess.  The pin pricks House Dhalmass had given House Lueltar had been successful, Dhalmass had seen their fortunes rise.  Little by little the chess moves made by Matron Mother Chandara had been masterful.  Matron Chandara had relished in the politics.....the INTRIGUE.... the subtle moves.  So much so, she lost the value of having a trained force of skilled a brutal warriors ready for open battle. Wizards? Priestesses? Spies and assassins? All necessary parts of war.  But wars can’t be won until the brutes finish their part. 

When House Lueltar marched a host right down the street and fought them in their own home, the inept and lazy paltry guard force had hardly been a match.  Lueltar had drilled their troops into a frenzy, backed by wizards, priests, and scouts working together.  Without all four aspects of battle, the 3 that house Dhalmass did have were woefully unprepared, and slaughter followed.

With their riches plundered, their slaves taken, and their pride gone, they slithered to the segmented cities to lick their wounds.

Years pass.

Matron Dhaune had proved as adept as her mother in intrigue and amassing power.  Careful as she was to not amass too much power too quickly and draw more attention than needed....and by extension....more rivals than they could handle.  They had become a minor player in the politics of Sshurlynder, but a far cry from their former prominence.  The lessons of their defeat were not lost on Matron Dhaune.

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Iblith!

Matron Dhaune cursed at the bevy of slaves that were hauling great crates of goods.  One had just tripped and dropped his crate, fracturing the corrner, and as it fractured, gold coins spilled out onto the cold floor in a loud and echoing jingle of metal.  With one smooth motion, the mace Matron Dhaune was carrying flew in a wide arc, stayed at the last second from shattering the slaves skull.

You are lucky I need you to carry these goods further.  Pray your luck holds and I don't remember to kill you later.  Clean that up.  

The slave immediately scooped up the coins and hastily repaired the crate, trying to appear invisible after he was finished.

The tunnel they were crawling down was a smooth perfect cylinder, a rare occurrence in the underdark.  Most tunnels were carved from pressure fracturing rock, or water pouring through and widening it over millennia, or even being tunneled through by active miners with pick and shovel.  This....this was different. All of those ways left the rocks jagged, the paths not straight.  Nature doesn't work in straight lines.  Matron Dhaune knew what this tunnel meant.  It was the reason she had trekked for a week into the deepest part of the underdark. A place seemingly no Drow, Svirfneblin, or Duergar had ever dared set foot.  She thought to herself: 

If the slaves knew why we were hear, they wouldn't take another step.

The group rounded a bend and entered a large cavern.  Darkness in the underdark is ever present, but there is darkness, and then there is the inky blackness they stepped into.  Matron Dhaune steeled herself as she called out into the void.

I mean you know harm, and I wish no harm upon me.  I am hear to parlay with you.  I have brought gifts for your hoard.

She signaled to the slaves to arrange the crates and throw them open.  One by one they threw open the chests.  Gold coins, furs from great beasts of both the surface and the underdark, jewels of every description, and magic weapons, armor, and other items, glittered as she cast a small light spell onto her mace.

You are either very brave, or very stupid coming here.  I can't decide which.  Later I will know.  But for now, little Drow, I am.........curious.

With those words spoken, a giant snake..... no...a winged, limbless serpent...slithered into view.  Its scales at first glance appeared to be the deepest black, but as it slithered around and the light struck them, they showed themselves to be the darkest purple imaginable.  The serpent slithered around, rearing back like a great snake ready to strike, suddenly its form blurred, and as it blurred, new features became apparent.  In its stead, a great purple dragon stood, its wings stretched out.  It dipped its head forward, its great fangs bared as it tried to get a better look in the crates.

The slaves were ready to bolt, and likely would have, if the contingent of guards didn't have them at spear point, keeping them in line.  

Great Dragon, I have come bearing gifts.  I have need of power for my house.  Power only you can provide.  The coupling of Deep Dragons and Drow are not unheard of.  Your power in my offspring will bring great strength to my house.  In return, you can have all that you see.  The slaves are suitable for eating, or perhaps you need servants of your own here? Either way, they are yours to do with as you wish.

The slaves began to panic as the realization of what was about to happen set in.  The Deep Dragon swooped down and swallowed two of the slaves in one quick gulp.  But then with the crack of magic he adeptly cast a spell on the rest, instantly making them docile.  With a quick thought, he dismissed them to the edge of the cavern.  Silently, other slaves of the dragon rushed from small tunnels off to the side, grabbed them and ushered them away.  He pondered in silence a long moment, when suddenly his form blurred again.  His form shrank and shifted, until all that was left was a resplendent purple skinned unimaginably tall drow standing in front of Matron Dhaune.  

You are ambitious I see.  I agree to your terms.  

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Matron Dhaune, long since arrived back in Sshurlynder, patted her pregnant belly, and smiled a wicked  grin.  The family was about to get quite the influx of power.

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Matron Dhaune screamed as she pushed out her baby.  She roared at the sky  in glee as she heard its wings flap.  Her joy was short lived as she realized it was a male, but no matter.  He would make an excellent soldier, and his innate power would only serve to strengthen the house.  

Balok of House Dhalmass was born.