Description
An elegant wraith of a diminutive drow glares at you with deep-set,
demure eyes. Through her tattered belongings, you see various scarring
between her non-existent breasts. Her emaciated frame sprouts short,
skeletal arms, and misshapen, knobby and deformed knees. Her waist
seems non-existent from the shape of her body, or really, lack of shape.
One side of her face seems to flatten and reform occasionally, revealing
a noticeable indentation of a familiar shape.
Looking closer at her maimed body, you also notice . . .
Role
Ikso Paxto's Training
Added Sun Nov 11 12:09:58 2018 at level 10:
The marching, the drilling, no singing, no killing. Sneakings not thrilling.
Where is the killing?!? Young Ikso had been born into the warrior caste,
much to her chagrin. Though, truth be told, there was no caste for the
likes of her.
She was bored beyond belief with the endless training to join the patrols
of Drow that prowled The Underdark defending the realm, looking for prey,
and being silently b-o-r-e-d. What Ikso (not her real name) truly desired
was to perform. Sadly, there was little outlet for such desires in Drow
society. One might make the case that the priestesses came close, but
who wanted to spend their nights orgasmically droning about spider
goddesses or what not?
Not Ikso. Not Ikso Paxto! She hated training, missing her childhood
home by The Underdark Sea where she swam far from the rocky shore
and let beasts the size of houses swirl beneath her.
Fear was not in her repertoire.
The only part of training that was not sheer agony for the recruit-in-protest
were nights by the fire, where the others chewed rothe meat and Ikso
held court. She was a chameleon, able to imitate any of the others at a
moments notice, becoming them before the crowd. Sometimes, even
the Drill Instructor, The Mistress of Knives.
Now what little humor Drow have is cruel and we must remember that
as we examine this case. For her impressions were not flattering, and
more than once a blade was drawn and pointed in her general direction
before cooler heads called for order.
Oh how Ikso hated those cooler heads. Bring it, she would silently wish,
knowing that the only thing better than the killing was rousing the blood
of another enough to bring out the red stuff. These were the performances
that brought her something close to joy. Can Drow know joy? Whos to say?
The Incident
Added Sun Nov 11 14:53:53 2018 at level 17:
One night, feeling particularly churlish, Ikso turned her taunts to the
absent Mistress of Knives, who was out on patrol. She stomped around,
licking her lips, pretending that the small blade issued to all recruits was
one of the two phallic dirks that swung by the Mistresss hips.
She felt predatory. Half the reluctant audience snickered with laughter.
The other cowered in fear. Getting caught would mean a group punishment,
likely walking leagues through The Underdark in utter silence with no
sleep and no food.
Ikso was still going, deep into her impression, describing the yonic qualities
of a certain Underdark Sea oyster, when the laughter stopped. She went for
a while longer, believing that the veracity of her performance had stunned
the listeners into silence. She hadnt noticed The Mistress step out from
the stalactite behind her.
Ikso continued her performance, stopping only once she felt the Mistresss
blade touch the skin of her neck. "Well, well, little one," said the
Blade Mistress, "It seems like your training is done. Tomorrow
you shall be in the vanguard of the patrol."
The taller Drow then bent and placed her ebony lips to Iksos.
"Goodbye, little one."
The Patrol and Imprisonment
Added Sun Nov 11 15:09:57 2018 at level 17:
The Patrol
After hours of silent trudging the patrol crested a rise. The Duergar
were waiting. The fight was not memorable, the simple slaughter of a
Drow patrol. Ikso took a mace to the head and crumpled to the ground
unconscious in the opening moments of the conflict.
In the times to come she would wish that adamantite hammer
had crushed her skull.
Imprisonment
What followed seemed like eons. Endless trudging through the caverns,
the cleaning, the dismemberment of ally and foe alike, cooking that very
meat. She was sold several times at slave auctions, each time for less
silver than the last, as she lost her own luster.
Ikso had begun to go away in her mind as the humiliations continued.
She could become Fat Edgar, a recruit who had choked to death on a
squid cake the first week of training. She would oaf about camp running
a Fat Edgar monologue in her head about how sad he was about being
a slave of Dark Dwarves, but how forward he was looking to the
svirfniblin jerky that was waiting back by his rock.
She would become The Mistress of Blades when they would take her,
her screaming more rage than pain as she struggled against the violations.
Things in Ikso began to change. The more time among the blood and juices
the further Ikso retreated into her mind.
She could become Kruk, her second master. Sharp as a tack and ugly as a
rothe rear-end when Ikso became Kruk she could woo extra food from the
camp cook, and not just the nibbles of liver shed take as she cleaned the
corpses that would become food for the slaves.
What had started as simple depravities had progressed to Ikso being
presented with a rothe-hide basket full of man-parts of many races in
various states of decay. That night Ikso cycled through every personality
that had taken root in her mind. By the time they got to the putrid remains
of a Fire Giant Ikso was Ikso again. Still she did not break.
That night the Duergar got drunker than usual. Once she could move again,
covered in gore and worse, Ikso stumbled away from camp.
It was not long after that she saw the sun for the first time.
The Surface, Part I
Added Sun Nov 11 15:45:43 2018 at level 17:
Ikso had known many enemies in her short, by Drowish standards, life.
Cavefishers, Duergar, Hunger, Isolation, Desperation, but never fear until
she gazed for the first time upon the yellow orb that hung above the
surface world.
Fuck Lloth. Here was a true god, she could feel the burning from how many
leagues away? A thousand? A million? How far was this flaming eye? This
burning gaze that touched everything which grew, walked, or flew upon the
surface? She hated it.
She waited until that first night and bathed in a stream. She had not been
clean for a human generation and the stink and grime washed away in waves
foul enough to kill small fish swimming nearby. Finally she was clean, but
naked, her ebony skin glistening in the moonlight. Her scars and wounds
ragged and scattered like random, disconnected roads on a map, all over
her body.
Who was she tonight? She was a dire wolf. She howled at the moon.
Walking aimlessly through the darkness, accompanied only by the hoots
of owls and the soft crunch of dry leaves underfoot Ikso progressed looking
for something she wasnt quite sure of, but she would know when she found it.
Oh how fortune and fate guided her to first the smell of woodsmoke and
eventually a clearing by a road where three wagons were set for the night.
She had learned of the social norms of the surface dwellers as a young Drow.
They had been taught that men and elves and dwarves were weak, valuing
Kindness, but that this failing could be taken advantage of. She summoned
Fat Edgar and knocked upon the first of the wagons.
The Surface, Part II
Added Sun Nov 11 15:46:58 2018 at level 17:
A sleepy looking bearded man appeared at the door. Upon spying the Drow at
his threshold any trace of tiredness fled from his face and he shouted as he
grabbed a great wooden cudgel from somewhere nearby. Back, Demon!
he shouted, Martha, its a raiding party!
Martha leapt to her feet, a chubby human woman with the sagging tits of a
mother a half dozen times over. She pulled a blanket around herself and
approached the door where Ikso stood, unarmed, unclothed, and unafraid.
Oh, Marvin, that is but a child, bring it in, it looks hungry.
Ill not have a Drow in my home, offered the man, but the anger fled from
his face as he saw he could not win this fight. He grabbed a rough woolen
blanket from the foot of the bed and, averting his eyes, offered it to Ikso,
though she was keen enough to detect his sidelong glance upon her as she
disappeared beneath the blanket turned robe.
I am hungry, madam, she mewed, offering her best Fatty Fatty Edgar that
poor sap. Do you have any bread? Ikso had heard that humans loved bread,
though she couldnt imagine why? The bread she knew was made with
mushroom flour and tasted of dirt.
Bread we have, and soup as well, Marvin stoke the stove. And so passed
a long night where Ikso had her first taste of comfort and kindness.
How she liked it.
The Troupe
Added Mon Nov 12 08:52:14 2018 at level 21:
The Troupe
It turned out that Martha and Marvin were childless parents of a
troupe of actors who travelled Thera performing plays that mostly
featured great figures from the past. The troupes children included
Michael, Megan, Mohan, Milhouse, Mildred, Mezcal Mary, Mouse, Midget,
Monk, and Zeke the Retard. (These were not their real names and
Zeke was not actually retarded.)
Martha and Marvin called a meeting of the minds and the mimes and
mummers met. The troupe was presented with Ikso, a rail thin waif of a
ghost of a shadow. Martha and Marvin wished to bring her into the troupe
and cast her as Ahteli in a new play "The Reign of the Lich."
"It writes itself," said Marvin.
"Your death stands there, and likely mine, too." said Zeke, lighting his pipe
with a deftness known to no true retard. Marvin and Zeke locked gazes and
the troupe fell silent. They put it to a vote. She was voted in 10-2. Mezcal
Mary voted with Zeke, because she knew what he did have in common with
his namesake.
For a time and a time she mastered rhyme. And meter and how to find a leader
when dancing. And how to lead and find the light and fight but not fight. And
history and mystery and how to contort her face to seem another race.
She was a star in a way, for when she was in full makeup and wardrobe she
seemed Ahteli herself, standing at the foot of the stage she was seven feet
tall to the audience. Those of whom gleaned her true nature often slipped
out trying to be unnoticed. She noticed.
The troupe dwindled to merely Martha and Marvin and Megan, Milhouse,
Mildred, Midget, and Monk. None of the missing said why they left the
once tight troupe, but it was understood it was Ikso. It was alway Ikso.
She sang. She loved to sing. She sang Duergar marching songs in a
sad Drowish voice. She sang sad Drowish songs in a Duergar chant.
She sang and sang. She found some type of joy in it, as close to joy as
she could get.
In time she understudied with everyone and learned to mimic an Imperial
and a Tribunal and a Battlerager and every manner of Theran. She learned
how to scowl like a feral felar, how to chortle like a dwarf. She already knew
how to sound like a Drow dying.
She became too many to name. She became legion.
Anyway, one night she slit the troupes throat while they slept and ate
their livers and walked towards Galadon in a red dress with a smirk on her face.
Galadon
Added Mon Nov 12 09:32:55 2018 at level 22:
Galadon
Ikso followed the smell of wine to the bards guild where she inquired
of the guildguard what would be required to join their ranks.
He laughed, his breath stinking up the air. No Drow, he said.
"But I can sing and dance and act and perform!" Said Ikso.
I am born to do this!
"Tell you what," said the bard guard, "get thee to a shapeshifter's guild
and learn to become a robin, and perhaps I'll let you perch
on my cock and sing to me."
Ikso turned on her heel, her red dress fluttering in the dust on
Holy Road as she trudged away.
An animal? She thought. Is that what they think of me? I shall show them.
She marched down the High Road with a Duergar marching song trailing
in the air behind her. She arrived at the shapeshifters guild, took one smell
and marched back up towards Market Square, this time in silence.
Ikso had learned of the guilds of the surface. At least the ones that mattered.
She obviously had not been taught the way of bards, and the Orcs were
certainly a mystery to her, though she had seen one, once, stinking of the
swamp, creeping past her Duergar captors one night, stinking of blood and murk
She would have alerted it if it had not clearly been startled at the sight of
her and fled into the darkness in a manner much improved from most of
the fleeing she had seen up to that point.
Gritting her face she did her best feral felar impression. She hissed and
walked west. West, towards the transmuters guild. She would change her body.
She would strike at their minds. Her spells would be songs on her lips,
the somatic components dance in her body. She would perform for them.
But whom would she be? Edgar the sniveling coward?
Kruk the scalpel sharp brute? Ahteli the long dead queen?
She would perhaps start as herself and see where it went from there.
The guildguard put away his fist of lightning and welcomed her,
the blade crackling in its sheath beneath his robe.
Interlude: A Musical Number
Added Mon Nov 12 09:40:31 2018 at level 22:
Interlude: A Musical Number
The Giant, the Squirrel, and the Artist
Keigbek and Ikso went hopping through the fo-o-orest.
Oh-de-le-de-la-le-de-da-da-day.
Squirrel at our side hopefully the big trolls would ignore us!
Oh-de-le-de-la-le-de-da-da-day.
The trolls found out and they amassed.
Oh-de-le-de-la-le-de-da-da-day.
The squirrel fell fast and we were assed!
Oh-de-le-de-la-le-de-da-da-day.
But little did the giant know the plans I planned soon to bestow
Upon what little brains below his cranium like rising dough!
Id sing to him a little song and soon his brains they would belong
To me alone from this song I jolt his brains and carry o-o-o-o-o-onnnnnnnn.
But my plans found some delay because upon this unlucky day
The gods protect him! I cannot slay! Fates are whimsical this way.
Ill learn some more, I promise this! With this fool I will not miss
The opportunity coming soon this song I sing will be his doom.
Trouble not my watchful eye, up in the sky, I sensed you cry
When the giant did escape my grasp.
I promise this youll hear his rasp as his breath escapes his dying lips.
His liver.
To you I promise this.
Thoughts on Imperials
Added Wed Nov 14 06:12:53 2018 at level 29:
Thoughts on Imperials
By the Gods Ikso hated Imperials. Certainly, she humored them
enough if they were willing to drag her along for an adventure,
but what a bunch of boring saps.
Ikso could imagine no life worse than one of following orders
and giving orders and following rules and rules in general.
Hells, by decree of the Emperor or somebody you couldnt even
strike down your mortal enemy if you found him at deaths door
in Market Square clutching Tiamats hide, the stoneform amulet,
and those strange bracers.
But what to do? Go live in the woods and hide from them?
No thank you. Ikso befriended a few of them, portraying a simple
adventurer unsure of her path, only to learn from them, turn on them,
and even report them to the Wartmaster just to sow some strife
in their ranks.
Edgar: Yes, but they always have food.
Food? You fat fool. We always have food, too.
Most Therans are made of meat.
Edgar: Good food.
You call moldy Imperial hardtack good food? Youre as big a fool as
the rest of them, Edgar. Go take the stupid oath.
Mistress: Oh, whos giving orders now?
Shut up! Shut up!
Interview with Cheap-Shot Magazine
Added Wed Nov 14 06:38:41 2018 at level 30:
Interview With Cheap Shot Magazine
Cheap Shot: Were here today with Ikso Paxto. If you havent
heard of this up and coming young Drow, youre in for a real treat.
Lets get right to the meat of the issue. Paxto, weve had several
complaints that youve been fighting trolls or what-not with someone,
having a grand old time, when all of a sudden you zapped their brains,
killed them, and ate part of them. Is this true?
Ikso Paxto: It cannot be denied.
CS: So what? Youre after shinies?
IP: Dont make me zap your brain, simpleton. What do you know
of performance? Of inspiration? When the spirit seizes me, I must act.
CS: Oh boy, you sound like the worst sort of Inn-Folk. Zapping
brains is a performance?
IP: Everything I do is a performance.
CS: So youre performing right now?
IP: Wunsohar yarh!
Drunk in the Swamp
Added Wed Nov 14 06:42:44 2018 at level 30:
Drunk in the Swamp
Have you ever rushed west out of Galadon and plowed
headlong into the swamp? Have you ever gotten lost there?
Have you ever had mosquitoes suck your blood while a fat boy
whimpered in your head?
Ikso has.
She was stumbling around the swamp, looking for a sorceress
she had heard of who would barter for things that she spied a
tower rising out of a clearing. Now now, lets not get ahead of
ourselves, some of the towers around here are full of dragon-men,
others are full of worse, first year magic students.
At least this one looked long abandoned. She slogged towards it.
Finally the gnarled trees in front of her parted and what to her
wondering eyes should appear, but an elemental made not of water,
but beer.
"Stand aside, my hoppy friend, Ive business within!"
But it merely regarded her with a slightly drunk grin.
"Ill pounce and Ill trounce you, Ill zap your brain!"
But no mind stirred within, just water and grain.
Seeing no recourse she turned on her heel.
"The secrets of this tower Ill uncover and steal!"
"Ill soon hold sway here, you yeasty-breathed lunk!"
But back in the swamp she found herself quite drunk.
Some few days later, smelling a fright
She saw Galadon finally bright in the night.
She found a room at a comfortable inn.
But they wouldnt take her reeking of gin.
In an alley she made a bed for some rest
With books she pulled from an old broken chest.
In the morning she found she had lain her head down
On a book about ENTROPY (the cabal not the noun.)
Mistress: Thats called a Deus ex Machina and its lazy writing.
Youre a liar anyway, thats not how you heard about the Barons.
Youre just trying to excuse a three day drunk. Drink? Drunk.
Sonnet for Keigbek
Added Mon Nov 19 13:42:43 2018 at level 43:
Sonnet for Keigbek
Oh, bluest giant standing there so tall;
An oath I swore upon the ground I stood;
Id melt your brains and send you all asprawl.
Within The Dream I asked you if you could
Help me navigate swirling mists within.
You came, of course, slave to my siren song,
To your death I led you, such a tiny sin.
Entwined you were, my jolt was very strong.
The performance you seemed to not enjoy,
I must admit it was a nasty trick.
But now you know youre just my little toy.
I ate your liver, warm, cause I was quick.
When next we meet I think youll quickly quaff,
The sad part is I guess the weddings off.
The Fortress STOMP
Added Wed Nov 28 19:33:50 2018 at level 51:
The Fortress Stomp
There once was a gangbang from Fort,
the ENTIRE lightwalking court.
I offered them some wine,
they put an axe in my spine.
From elves Id expect a nicer retort!
Aehwic, Aurew, Sarvus, Arsaiya, Yikaro
Were invited to my party tomorrow.
Well drink today!
The elves started the fray!
Aehwic, Aurew, Sarvus, Arsaiya, Yikaro
Much to my chagrin and my sorrow
Jumped me, I suspect
Because it makes them erect
Certainly my staff they wished to borrow.
Who shall FIRMLY RISE against murderous rage?
What hero shall end the Fortresses bloody age.
They all claim courage is abound
But NONE can be found!
No wonder Fortress has so many a pretty Page.
Aehwic came looking to please,
To cleanse Thera of moral disease.
He wont come alone,
The Forts joined at the bone.
His name sounds like a svirfniblin sneeze.
Drunk on themselves at the Fort
The entire lightwalking court.
Set out for thrills,
Five on one kills!
Then buttfucking each-other for sport.
The cocksure Fort Captain speaks,
Its time to go hunting for sneaks.
But hes never alone,
His tiny bone
Firmly between the Marshalls cheeks.
Ikso Paxto, Performer at the Inn of the Eternal Star
This is Thera (we think)! By the Childish Gambinos
Added Wed Nov 28 19:35:09 2018 at level 51:
To the tune of This is America by Childish Gambino
This is Thera (skrrt, skrrt, woo)
Don't catch you slippin' up (ayy)
Look at how I'm duo now
Tribunal be trippin' now (woo)
Yeah, this is Thera (woo, ayy)
Reavers in my area (word, my area)
I got the staff (ayy, ayy)
I gotta carry it
Yeah, yeah, I'ma go into this (ugh)
Yeah, yeah, this is guerilla (woo)
Yeah, yeah, I'ma go get The Head
Yeah, yeah, or I'ma get the gold
Yeah, yeah, I'm so cold like yeah (yeah)
I'm so dope like yeah (woo)
We gon' blow like yeah (straight up, uh)
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, tell somebody
You go tell somebody
Provost told me
Get your equation, Entropy man (get your equation)
Get your equation, Entropy man (get your equation)
Get your equation, Entropy man (get your, Entropy man)
Get your equation, Entropy man (get your, Entropy man)
Entropy man
PK Wins
Nov 12, 2018|Lv 24|The Plains of Arendyl|Arajeon vs 2: [24] Ikno (36%), [24] Nefrene (63%, lightning bolt)
Nov 18, 2018|Lv 37|Organia, the Veil of Shadow|Keigbek vs 1: [37] Ikno (100%, mental jolt)
Nov 22, 2018|Lv 48|East Sumner's Road|Gavriel vs 2: [51] Cafefe (23%), [48] Ikno (77%, disruption)