The dank tunnel walls of the Hydlaa sewers seemed infused with the stench of centuries, and the young Nolthri wondered if it would similarly seep into the core of her being. Arjaya hated the place, though the damp humidity was welcome on her water-born azure skin. The dry air in the city above ground always made her feel as though her skin was on the verge of cracking.
The sounds of the dark corridors echoed off the aged stone; the metronome-like drip of befouled water from the overhead drains, the skittering of claws in the distance, and the occasional inhuman scream of some unknown beast or bug taking it's final place in the Yliakum food chain.
She crept in silence through the shadowy tunnels, on the hunt for the members of a rogue gang that had been breaking into the homes of a number of Hydlaan families. The city guard had little interest in entering this filthy warren; they were more than happy to leave the task of clearing the sewer system of various vermin - humanoid or otherwise - to the Hydlaan guilds. Her guild, the Daughters of Xiosia, were unique among them, in that every guild member was female. Beyond that, Arjaya was one of the more unusual DoX acolytes. Xiosia was called "the Mother Goddess," the creator and maintainer of the balance of life. As such, DoX members were, generally speaking, non-violent except in cases requiring self defense.
If there was an irony to belonging to a guild of professed pacifists, Arjaya, who often referred to herself as a "warrior priestess," didn't let it bother her overly much. She had a rather loose definition of what constituted self defense. "Someone has to protect the sheep," she once told told a questioning Dermorian, "and that's me. I won't wait for the predators to kill my flock... not if I know how to find them."
It was with such knowledge that the Northri quietly slipped from shadow to shadow, and several of the gang of thieves had fallen to her twin sabers. As she climbed a bending set of stairs, she heard a familiar sound, the frenzied chirping of tlokes, a hive insect sacred to the Mother Goddess. Though generally peaceful, they were dangerous and vicious if attacked, and from the sound of these, they were enraged. Almost drowned out by the tlokes was another sound, out of place considering the din of the insects - human laughter.
As she reached the top of the stairs, Arjaya froze. Two black-garbed rogues were taunting a flight of caged tlokes, stabbing and slashing at them through the bars of a closed gate, held shut by a stick jammed through two notched brackets. Several tloke corpses lay spilling fluids on the ground as evidence that this torture of Xiosia's favored creatures had been going on for some time. The red-rimmed gills on her neck twitching in anger, the daughter of Xiosia's arms waved in a complex pattern as she quietly chanted in an ancient language. Suddenly, a storm of ice exploded around the rogues, by chance freezing one thief's boots in a puddle of filthy water. It wouldn't hold him long, but a little time would be all the Northri needed. The other rogue turned on the warrior-priestess and raised his short sword high as he charged to the attack.
His reflexes slowed by the icy chill, the rogue missed badly. Arjaya had no such problem, felling the brute with a slash to the knee, and ending his life with a stab through his throat. As a geyser of blood erupted from the first thief's neck, the furious warrior priestess turned to the second. "You presume to torture and slaughter the sacred creatures of the Mother Goddess? I think not," she snarled. She re-cast her freezing spell, further locking his boots to the wet tunnel floor. "Let's see how you fare when YOU are the helpless one."
With another gesture and more arcane words, a brilliant rift formed in front of her hands and a arrow flashed from it - shattering the stick holding the gate closed and freeing the small swarm of tlokes. As the insects overwhelmed and shredded the now defenseless rogue, the young Northi turned on her heel and stalked off, his dying screams unheeded. Sheathing her swords and dropping to her knees in meditative prayer, her breathing slowed, and as the screams died away, the chirping of the tlokes changed from fury to joy... and the priestess smiled.
