DarkElfTwiggy
The flames of Golothaer burned a sickly green tonight.
From the high balcony of the Grand Temple of Lolth, Menzoberra Zan'Rae watched the city writhe beneath the cavern's ceiling, its spires and bridges shuddering with the cries of battle. Below, the faithful of the Spider Queen clashed with the cult of Ghaunadaur, slime-slick fanatics wielding oozing whips and dripping blades. The air reeked of acid and smoke; the clash of steel echoed like a ceaseless drumbeat of doom.
Behind her, the sacred doors groaned open. Rodella, her eldest daughter, entered with a child clinging to her skirts - a girl with hair pale as her grandmother's and eyes still wide with disbelief.
"Mother," Rodella said softly. Her voice was hoarse, raw from smoke. "It is done. The gates are ash. House Zan'Rae is no more."