Giving Thanks

After the extensive reunion with my ancestors, the conversation died to an all-time low. For good reason, I add. The implications of what was discussed ran deep, yet it was not something I could dwell on, for it changed nothing in the grand scheme of things. And so, the only thing to do was to continue marching.

With assurances that we would speak to them soon, my ancestors departed, freeing the others from the manor to explore my Under and thus freeing me to sit atop my throne and finally realize I didn't have to use it to commune.

Therein was the last thought that crossed my mind before I focused inward, and then out. Despite the shift in locale, meditating was the same in my Underworld as on the outside. Now I could clearly see the vastness of Death all around me, even with the slightest focus.

I could see my Under had changed just as much as everything else. I could see Carbury moved his resting place into the far distance behind my throne-turned-manor, where his presence saw the colossal forest grow to the size of mountains, linked by the winding branches of exotic trees. Therein went Reina, who used the darker aspects of her twilight to create armor and items for the many undead beasts within.

I could see Zaraxus in his castle to the right of my manor. Released of his duties in Shujen, he split his time between the deathworld woven above us and here, training the 20 undead I assigned him shortly after he was raised. Therein went Leary, who used his blessings and boons to enhance the bones of the Death Jarls, Mummies, Revenants, and other powerful undead within.

I could see Lana in her long house-turned-encampment to the left of my manor. The long house was still there, however, and it was still filled with Bruce, Caleb, Neil, and the other shadows of my first undead company. Therein went Rickley, who used her bardic abilities to speak to the souls of the shadows within to learn the stories, their spells, their skills, and their secrets.

I could see the Shade Palace floating atop the lake before my throne, wherein hundreds of freshly promoted Undead Pages arrived daily to practice every craft, train with every weapon, and learn everything I required of them to serve my Legionaries. Therein went Wilson, who used his prowess to increase the palace's efficiency and enhance those who ran it.

I could see. With a clarity that grew by the second, I could see my ki spreading throughout my Underworld, infecting everything from the abyssal soil to the undead atop it, ebbing something that was not quite alive out of them that sought to counter the waves that awoke it as it flowed back to me.

It pushed into the walls from all sides as it impacted my manor, erecting a great pillar beneath it that shook the foundations loose and blew out the windows. The glass-like shards that once sealed the baleful air outside morphed into grains as they fell to the widening floor, now ingrained with the blackest wood. The palace was pitted in darkness. The halls widened, their walls losing the markings of hewn stone in favor of a grim monastery's smooth, painted walls.

All those things changed in the blink of an eye it took for the wave to return, yet it hadn't reached me.

Born from all things dead in this, my Underworld, the tidal waves of immeasurable energy converged on my body, slamming into my spirit where they refused to be released and thus flowed into the paths and ponds I developed over the last several months.

As dictated by the paths, they flowed into the first pond of necrotic ki to mix with the less dense energy of the 2nd and 3rd ponds until a homogeneous consistency had been reached. Then it began pushing. It crept up my paths until it seeped into the 4th ki pond, increasing the pressure within that was kept in equilibrium by my focus until the pond overflowed with the same vibrancy as the arcane words floating before me.

[The Way of Death's Door, Step 19: Death's Temple, Task Complete.]

[Reward: Active Monastic Death Perk: [Death's Door Stop] - With Death's Door Stop, one can hold Death's Door open for up to one hour at the cost of all stockpiled ki. In doing so, a domain of necrotic ki is spread across a radius of 50 meters, granting necrotic ki users an unlimited source of ki to siphon from. Simultaneously, any undead existing within Death's Yard while the door is opened receives buffs for physical attributes and martial proficiencies.]

[Reward: Active Monastic Death Perk: [Dead Breezeway] - Having passed through the threshold, the Dead Breezeway can now pass through Death's Door when opened. Its wicked winds serve to siphon life from the living, repairing the wounds of the undead and undying while simultaneously boosting their physical attributes and martial proficiencies.]

[Reward: Passive Monastic Death Perk: [Undying Touch] - Such has your ki grown, that your Touch of Death has evolved into the Undying Touch. With this, you can imbue ki into others to temporarily make those you strike undying, allowing you to ease or aid their suffering by keeping them standing before Death's Door.

[The Way of Death's Door, Step 20: Death's Monastery.]

[Though you have stepped through Death's Door and seated yourself on the Throne, your path is still incomplete, for your throne remains in the Under. To truly become the Undying Reaper, you must construct a Monastery on the Mortal Plane and train your first acolytes in the Undying Way to complete the circuit between all Ki Ponds.]

I wasted no time reading them, for I already knew what I'd be granted. Moreover, I could still see what was happening in the Mortal Plane. Thus I gathered my Troupe without delay and ascended from the Under, stopping in my pit of darkness for only a moment to contemplate wearing the brooch in Zimysta Falls.

I decided against it.

After all, that would ruin the surprise.

***

Abbot Eiriol.

21st of Quintetas, 1492.

09:32.

***

 It took not long for him to return. Only an hour. Perhaps two. In that time, both little and much happened. Our obligations to the Bodhi Tree were complete until next year. Rua Nun, Peter Boyd, and Veil of Shadows were full-fledged monks, tasked with forming their monasteries to become masters; so they went on their respective ways. Thus the monks of Nydorden Halls could take their leave. Not even the juniors had reason to stay. Not when their Matrons ensured they had the same facilities below.

And so it was that the 4,400 monks of the Eight Eyes gathered at the true entrance to Nydorden Halls. The terraced pit was made to fit ten times as many, of course, yet it somehow seemed cramped due to this Troupe and their collective parties. In particular, the massive guests sitting before me- the so-called 'liberated' Prince and Princess of Shujen; Freki, and Geri.

"No! I come first." The brutish woman was saying. "I'm the oldest, and it rolls off the tongue better. Geri and Freki. See?"

"Sure." Javrith, the Second Son of Yela and a senior monk, rolled his eyes impatiently. "Geri. Freki. What do you do?"

"Ah, such a vague question." The woman teased, tapping her chin before slapping her brother's arm. "You first."

"I'm a farmer," Freki said dismissively, waving at the black wolves around him. "We all are."

Bazra scoffed beside his brother, Barrow, alongside a hundred other junior monks of their ilk. "You're fucking lying. With how dangerous you look. You, a farmer? Laughable."

"It's true." Freki nodded, pointing to his half-elven, dwarf, halfling, and human bards. "Except for them, everyone you see here is a farmer. A False Shepherd."

"False what?"

"It's someone who…"

"I am sure you have heard this before, but you do not often see children growing to the age of evolution in days," I turned my eyes away from those large celestials to pass over Blude, Redd, Sam, and Iris before passing over each of their shoulders in turn. "You have all grown well. In more ways than one."

"Thank you, Abbot." Iris and several others said at once.

I admit to playing coy and bashful as I waved off the title. Yet I said nothing more of the matter. One, for there was nothing that was yet to be said already. Each member of the Troupe; at least this half, had dozens upon dozens of capable followers; evolved mystics, professionals, business owners, divine agents, even. And therein lies the second reason. Their expansive parties made them more of an object of interest than they already were. At least to the eyes up here. To the eyes below, however, I knew they'd be seen only as a threat.

Worse, I knew any interest in them would be seen as the most severe crime; worthy of the most horrific punishment. Fortunately, the monastic drow in these Halls never got around to that.

Unfortunately, it got around to them. To all of us.

It began with a sense of dread, so familiar and so powerful. The necrotic ki of Amun shone like the surface sun, sending a cold shivering howl down every spine present. Nearly. From the depths of that cold, came warmth. Darkness corrupted my a million motes of light both gilded and violet.

From those starry motes came those most curious undying ones. The vibrantly long-haired halfling came first, beating on her bosom as if it were a fiery drum; and following her came a thunderous bolero that echoed the march of a million souls held in the bodies of a few. The man-sized goblin; the elf of feathers; the lich in child form. Then came the brightest mote of all, from behind me.

Like the others, that most vibrant point bore Amun just as he was when he first returned to these halls. The mismatched draconic eyes. The blackened horns and fingers with stark white nails. The eldritch tattoos around his wrists, the angular blue veins, and the diadem of divine fire. It was all there.

Though he still wore his monastic garb, his shoulders were covered in a familiarly feathered robe. The Greater Piwiff I gave him, upgraded by a Grandmaster Artificer's touch, I presumed; among other things.

"This the transformation the Matron mentioned?"

"Oh, no." Amun shook his head dismissively as his head panned around the environment. "This is my godly visage, I suppose you could say. Though it's subject to change as I move further down my classes."

"And what classes are those?"

"The Void Devil's eyes, jaws, horns, and claws are from my Sorcery and everything else from my clerical class, the Eternal Path." He casually said. "One of my first clerics came up with the name, the Elven Devil. And then another came up with the Devil of Fae not a second later. I disliked both names at first. But… well." He snorted, gesturing to himself. "It seems they were quite accurate."

"Indeed," was all I could manage to say. Yet, it could have been the contrary. The power of a deity came from faith. So too was a deity's power shaped by faith, particularly by the interpretations of their faithful. But then again, his clan was ancient. Just as ancient, perhaps, as the drow blood coursing through his veins. If he was from our House- the one that forsook me, it may very well be true.

At any rate… "I presume this means you are ready to venture below?" I asked, cautiously taking the small but undeniably divine mushroom he offered me. 'What is this?' I sighed with even more trepidation.

Amun, however, only nodded, saying. "How do we get down?"

I gestured around us. "This chamber is our lift. It will take us one day to make the descent."

He looked about with a look of disapproval before a great but short quake crumpled the ground beneath him. The resulting dark dust remained floating beneath us while golden light began to limn our bodies, seeming to cause that black dust to aggregate into hard shells around the scattered groups.

"Oh, drop pods. Nice!" I heard Geri mumbling as a plush seat formed beneath me, sealing me in a luxurious chamber with Amun, Sorn, Nijal, and the other senior monks. Then we began to fall. Rapidly and ever faster through this tunnel of dark and light- Twilight.

I knew not how long it would take to reach our destination, only that it would take much less than a day. Less than a day for my questions to be answered. Less than a day to do whatever I could to change my station. Less than a day to be as careful as I could, for many ears were listening in the dark; and at least eight eyes were watching always.

"What do you know of the Darkworld?" I asked.

Amun answered with a snort. "Far more than most."

"Fair enough." I huffed in embarrassment. "Do tell, then, what you know about drow culture?"

"My mother, Eved, didn't tell me much, so I only know what your great-grandson told me." He answered shortly, yet that word- that name struck as much fear into my heart as it did hope in my spirit; but in the fashion of an undying being, he gave me no repose.

'That's a gift from him by the way.' He pointed at the mushroom concealed in my robe as he signed. Wincing, my eyes darted to the surrounding monks, who were all shrouding or outright holding similar mushrooms. 'His means of returning the favor by freeing you from this madness and giving you a proper future.'

"I see. And, what did you learn?" I said as slowly as the subtle movements rolled off Amun's hand, so familiar in their inflictions, they were.

"Nothing good, but enough to realize what you told me before I left was true." Those words and the bleak tone carrying them caused many red eyes to shift worryingly. Yet he pressed on. "Not that it's a bad thing. It's quite the opposite, for it brings about an opportunity for my fellow drow to change; to evolve and reach our peak. Like you saw here with this lift, change will be brought wherever I go. Whether I want it to or not, it will touch everyone I meet and countless more I never see. However, I'm responsible. I clean up my messes. So be patient, I ask you, my fellow Drow.

"Dusk looms; beckoning the Crown of Gloom to uplift our name and bring our enemies doom."