The Girls Talk About Religion And Shit

They stand in the aftermath of Vera’s illusory show, the rain still pouring down on them. Deimos comes over slowly and raises a wing over Oziah to shield her from the rain. She leans against him quietly, clearly preoccupied with her thoughts.

The others settle things with the Galavir elves who had been injured in the retelling of Corellon chasing Lolth into the Abyss, and eventually Igrainne comes over and haltingly asks Oziah if she’s alright. The aasimar frowns, looking almost lost and a little upset. She stops and starts a couple of times before speaking.

“I don’t understand it. None of it.Gods, and people who serve them. People who claim to serve them."

Igrainne seems to realise what she's just walked into and awkwardly stands there, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"It's, uh...cultural? I guess?" She pauses for a second, and continues. "Well. Jaezred wasn't very religious either before he came back from the war. He...found comfort in that, I guess. He's never really talked about it."

Oziah nods, still frowning. Deimos has his head over her shoulder and she's got a hand on his neck, seemingly drawing comfort from his presence.

"I haven't brought it up and he hasn't either,” she answers. “I.. I suppose I'm worried that it'll somehow come between us. His faith and my.. Aversion.”

She seems to suddeny realise what she's saying and who she's saying it to and looks uncharacteristically embarrassed.

"Apologies. I understand if you don't want to have this conversation. He's your cousin and I'm.. an acquaintance at best."

Igrainne gives an even more awkward chuckle.

“Oh don’t worry about it! You’re a family friend. Well, friend.”

Oziah nods, her eyes a little distant again, still lost. She draws a flask from a pocket - one of Ivans. Igrainne tries once more to offer advice.

“I get it. He’s a Favoured so he can be a little bit zealous. But if he’s friends with you maybe you can have a nice, mature conversation?”

The meaning finally registers with Oziah who spits her mouthful of whiskey on the ground at their feet.

"Oh fuck. What are you impl- Do you think I'm sleeping with Jaezred?!"

Igrainne gapes.

“Wait, aren’t you? Like his side piece or something?” she blurts out.

Oziah takes a healthy swig of whiskey and just answers "No," vehemently.

There’s another, very awkward pause.

"We're.. Friends. I think."

Igrainne looks mortified.

“I…am so sorry. My lady.”

"No, no.. no that's.. alright. I just need to drink some more of this absolutely horrid whiskey until the image leaves my brain."

“Um.. yeah you wanna talk about gods and shit? Let’s talk about gods and shit! Anything but that…”

"We're both... otherwise occupied. So let's leave it at that. I have more of this whiskey if you want some. And yes, for once I find that talking about Gods And Shit is a better topic than the one at hand."

---

Igrainne accepts the whiskey graciously and the two wander around the small village until a kind Galavir native points them to a small fire under an unoccupied roof. A moment later Dwihian finds them. She walks over holding a jug and a couple of cups, smiling and excited.

“Hey guys, how's it going over here? D'you want to try some lake water?”

Oziah looks mildly skeptical. "What does it do?"

Igrainne however, doesn’t hesitate (“Ooh lake water!”) and takes a swig immediately

Dwirhian nods and explains.

"It's great, I literally live on it when I'm here. We all do, well, we used to. It's really nice."

"As long as it doesn't sober me up." Oziah takes a cautious sip.

She moves over to make space for Dwirhian by the fire as Igrainne drains her cup (“This is the shit, Dwirhian! Top notch lake water!”) and turns to coax Deimos down to ground level for scritches and cooing in Abyssal.

Dwirhian grins at Igrainne.

”I know right? I have some with me back in town but not a lot so I keep it for special occasions. Good thing about coming back here is I can collect some more.”

Oziah sets her own cup down and picks up her flask again, turning to Dwirhian.

"We're talking about Gods and shit. Do sit down. It's horrible," she says, deadpan.

Dwirhian takes a seat.

“Yeah... gods. I, uh-”

She looks between Oziah and Igrainne, trying to judge how to be honest without upsetting anyone.

“I've always kind of mostly thought of them as just interesting stories, you know? It just isn't something I grew up with. But I've been lots of places and heard a lot about them, lots of different opinions. What's your take?”

Igrainne hesitates, but speaks.

“Stories, sure…but they’re also why dark elves are the way they are. Why surface elves and dark elves fight.”

Oziah gives a strange grimace and says, "Well. I was forced into servitude. So I absolutely detest it as a whole."

“Oh thirst, what? I'm so sorry, that's... that's terrible!” Dwirhian says.

Igrainne gives Oziah a sympathetic look. “That really sucks.”

Oziah nods a little.

"Igrainne. In there, in the illusion. There was a moment when Lolth was considering helping the villagers. And then she understood that they weren't her followers. So she changed her mind. How the fuck does that work."

She cringes a little at the bluntness of her own words.

“Uh, well. Do you know the story of the Schism? Vera went into it a little bit.”

"Not the whole story. I've got the bare bones down," Oziah answers, before muttering quietly, "Ask me anything about Torm though."

Igrainne gives Dwirhian a questioning look. Dwirhian gives a small shake of her head.

“I don't know much about it either, to be honest,” she answers. “I kind of... didn't really want to hear about all that stuff when I first found out about it. But I'd like to hear now, if you want to tell it.”

“Well, okay, sure. It’s like Vera said, Corellon created the first elves and Lolth was the proudest of them all. Their favourite, some say she was even their ‘wife’. All the primal elves looked like Corellon as we saw just now, but Lolth persuaded them to take a permanent form so they could join the creations of other gods in doing great stuff. And that’s why elves look the way we do today.”

Igrainne looks at them both, pausing for questions, but the other two just listen.

“Corellon didn’t like that. They banished all the primal elves from Elvenhome, and the first place the primal elves ended up in was the Feywild. Corellon and Lolth argued a lot because she thought it wasn’t fair and their ‘children’ started taking sides.

Then one day, Lolth had enough of it and attacked Corellon. War happened, and in the end Lolth’s side lost. She went to the Abyss to become the Spider Queen and the elves who followed her became the drow, exiled to live in the Underdark. The word ‘drow’ originally means ‘traitor’ in Elvish.

The primal elves who took sides became gods themselves eventually. They’re known as the Seldarine and the Dark Seldarine. Gods of the surface elves and gods of the drow respectively.”

Dwirhian nods, listening intently.

“See this is all so fascinating to me, d'you know I didn't even know drow were elves until a couple of years ago? Like, we all knew about drow, they've been around in Kantas as long as we have, maybe longer, but we all thought they were just... a different kind of people, like orcs or tabaxi or whatever. We never knew there were any elves outside Galavir at all. Hearing the story, I guess I can understand why they didn't really want to tell us that we were sort of... related.”

“Wow, that marid really cut you off huh? That’s crazy,” Igrainne remarks. “Well, now you know why the drow attack you sometimes!”

“Why do they though?” Oziah interjects. “Because Corellon shot a giant arrow at Loth back in the day? He even missed. Shot a hole in the planes but didn’t even graze her.”

Igrainne smiles a little at that.

“Because the war is still ongoing, in a way. Lolth and Corellon are still battling for supremacy. And elves live for a very long time. Like, in a hundred years you and I will be skin and bones, but Jaezred and Dwirhian here wouldn’t even have a wrinkle! And boy do they keep grudges.”

“That said…” Igrainne looks thoughtful. “The illusion of Lolth that we saw had a very chill attitude about surface elves. If that illusion was in any way accurate…well, I wonder what changed her mind. Was it the Abyss?”

Oziah’s face takes on the same bitter grimace from before at the mention of the war still ongoing.

"So they fight. And throw us mortals around like chess pieces. They dispense power in the name of their domains and don't have a care in the world about what becomes of their servants." After a second, she adds, "In my experience, anyway.”

Dwirhian lays out her own thoughts.

“And, like... that illusion was Vera's interpretation of a story she'd heard from someone in Faerûn, who'd probably heard it from someone else, and so on. What makes anyone believe they know what Lolth actually thinks? Especially believe it so much that they want to fight other people about it?”

Igrainne visibly thinks of a response before answering in a small voice.

“I…uh. I don’t know if I should be telling you this. But I felt her watching through me when that happened. She was…intrigued? I don’t know how to explain it. But it’s a feeling inside you that isn’t really inside you. I dunno. It’s weird.”

Dwirhian and Oziah both look perplexed at this, and Oziah squints a little at Igrainne.

"So something caught her attention. Was it you or the thing that was happening? Do you know?"

“It was definitely the illusion. When we realised that she was very self-aware. I’m not alone in this. I know Jaezred feels her presence sometimes. His connection with her is more personal, kinda.”

Oziah's eyebrows climb even further up her brow. Igrainne looks questioningly at her.

“Something on your mind?”

Oziah frowns.

"Do you ever.. You both follow her. You're both given power by her. Do you ever fear her?"

There is a long pause before Igrainne nods.

"Then why? Why do you follow her?"

“Because…uh…” Igrainne scrunches up her face, “She’s the Mother of Elves. We fear her, we love her, you know? Like a child would a parent.”

Oziah is quiet for a long moment. Dwirhian has an involuntary look of shock and sadness at Igrainne's comment but stops herself saying anything.

Eventually, in the awkward silence that she forced them into, Oziah says,

"We come from very different places. And I have a very different view. I don't mean to make you answer for All Faiths And Their Servants. The things that happened to me weren't your doing, and not Lolth's either. I suppose I'm just trying to understand how they can be so powerful and terrifying, and do very little and still have people follow them. I'm... sorry. If I've offended you."

Igrainne shakes her head.

“Don’t worry, you haven’t offended me. Not as much as that display anyway…Truth be told, we drow don’t really care what non-elves think about this stuff. Er, not that I don’t value your opinion, my lady,” she adds quickly. “But I can understand why it’s a sore topic for you. I can’t speak for Jaezred but my guess is he wouldn’t hold it against you!”

Oziah nods, slowly and thoughtfully and a little sadly.



After letting the silence sit a bit, Dwirhian says, “Have either of you been to Harnash?” and then quickly laughs a little and says “This is relevant, I promise, I'm not just randomly changing the subject!”

She gets a small laugh from Oziah at that. "Just the once. I went into Gadenthor."

“I’ve been to D’Avalon but not Harnash proper,” Igrainne says.

At this point Varga comes back from her swim, looking refreshed if a bit winded, hair still dripping with water. She drops down next to the fire, joining them.

“D’Avalon, huh? Nice place. Glad you’re not dwelling on that god story. Those were fake gods, anyway. Me, talking Lolth out of a fight? Fat chance. Come on, Gruumsh himself couldn’t fool her. Those were just Vera’s interpretations. D’Avalon, on the other hand, is fun.” She turns to Dwhirian with interest. “And Harnash is nearby, you say? Didn’t realise that when we were there. Is it similar, then?”

Dwirhian immediately smiles.

“Oh, hi Varga! Have some water.” She pours a cup and offers it. “I dunno, I haven't really spent much time in D'Avalon but I think the religious situation is sort of similar, maybe a bit less, uh. Historically loaded.” She turns back to Oziah and Igrainne.

“I was talking to Varga about this a while back, actually. Harnash... most Harnashis don't worship any gods at all. Some do but it's kind of frowned on, so they keep it private. Back in the country's history there was a big cultural change, it's very interesting. People decided that religion was sort of holding them back, so they turned against it. Some religious practices are actually banned, like by law.”

Oziah looks mildly impressed.

“They’ve certainly got the right idea. In my opinion, anyway.”

“I'm... I guess I kind of feel the same. Well, no, obviously what happened to you is very different, I've never had anything like that. But growing up with no idea of gods at all except as stories from other cultures, and spending the past few decades living with people who are very aware of gods but kind of culturally reject them and, as far as I can see, it hasn't done them any harm, Harnash is a really great place... And then I come back here and people I grew up with have started praying to Corellon and wearing different clothes and not caring about stories any more... I guess my experience with gods has not been super positive.”

Varga shrugs in apparent bemusement at how religion could hold someone back, but silently drinks her water.

“But then again, BB - you know BB? She's actually, like, chatted to a god? Like they're sort of friends? Which is... I don't even know what to do with that, to be honest! But maybe to you two that seems normal?” She asks Igrainne and Varga.

“Not at all,” Varga answers with interest. “I mean, I get an occasional vision or inspiration from Ilnevar, and Bahgtru has always favoured me in battle, but to hope for an in-person meeting? That would be… insubordinate. Would be nice to know what the hell they expect me to do, though,” she says wistfully.

Oziah looks bewildered at the thought of being friends with a god.

“… which one?” she eventually asks.

“Oh yeah, Egle!” Igrainne says. “They’re friends. That’s…not exactly normal, though.”

Dwirhian nods.

“So... Igrainne, you were saying you can sometimes... feel Lolth's influence, right? Do you feel like you know what she wants you to do, or is it more like Varga's saying?”

“I…no. It’s not like that. Just a sliver of a feeling, occasionally. I don’t think she wants me to do anything in particular? Yet, anyway. But BB didn’t grow up with gods either, right Dwirhian? Now she’s best buds with one of ‘em. Funny how that works.”

“Yeah…”

Dwirhian looks like she has a lot that isn't quite managing to form itself into words. She looks over at Oziah, checking how she seems to be reacting to all this.

Oziah just shakes her head a little and quietly says,

"I don't understand why you would want it. Want to serve someone in that way, not knowing what they want from you and fearing what they might do to you if you get it wrong."

There’s silence around the fire. Varga is the first to break it.

“Never thought about it from a wanting point of view. I mean there are many reasons. Gratitude for blessings, promise of greatness, but… if I had a choice… I guess my reason would be the same reason other people want to live, I suppose. You don’t know what life will throw at you. But the thrill of anticipation is worth it!” She toasts with her water cup, and adds, “And being afraid is something I should frown upon, by the way. Even of the gods. I feel that’s something you can relate to?”

She looks across her companions.

"I never had a choice,” Oziah says, speaking mainly into her flask of Whiskey. “The blessings I was supposedly given were leveraged against me by the clergy. They became chains. I even prayed to him for help, in the beginning. None ever came. So I had to claw my way to freedom. And when I did, my powers and my wings were ripped from me. The Hand of Righteousness doesn't like deserters, apparently."

Igrainne stays quiet, quietly hoping that Varga and Dwirhian will continue the conversation without noticing her silence. Dwirhian looks over at Oziah.

“That's really awful. I'm sorry they did that to you. I think I've run into people like that too. The ones who really believe they know what the gods want, and that it's more important than anything else – right?”

Varga struggles expressing emotion and is hesitant to give Oziah a pat on the back having just heard about her wings. So she just grumbles and says, “Yeah, that sucks… dunno if gods hate anyone though. But that’s just me. Personal treatment is insubordinate,“ she recites, and pauses for a bit and looks around. “Maybe it’s like a mountain wind? Sometimes it’s in your back, and makes for a nice walk, and sometimes it’s in your face and makes your skin crack”.

Dwirhian gives Igrainne a questioning look, making sure the other woman is doing alright. Igrainne nods. Oziah stares at the fire because she can’t quite meet anyone’s eyes.

“So they’re these beings of absolute power and we’re just… subject to their whims? Like forces of nature? And yet sometimes they take action. Sometimes they step in and meddle, when they want to. When it suits them.”

She stops for a second, visibly shaken - possibly not just by the topic but also by the fact that she’s talking to people about it and - even worse - crying a little bit.

“Torm deemed it Good and Right for the clergy of my city to rule and to control countless lives - including my own - with the power he gave them. But when I - a person who was supposed to be His champion - begged for help, I was found unworthy of his attention. He can go fuck himself.”

Deimos clambers up from where he’d laid down to get scritches from Igrainne and awkwardly positions his bony horse body between her and Oziah.

Dwirhian reaches out a hand to lay it over Oziah's and gives a gentle squeeze.

“Yes. For doing that, for making you feel like that – yes, Torm and his priests can go and shrivel up in the desert. Listen, people follow all sorts of gods. I've never met anyone who'd say that all gods are good or right, let alone that their followers are all good or right. And I know – I know – that people can and do live full and happy lives without worshipping any gods at all.”



Igrainne tries to come to terms with the fact that this intense woman who is apparently friends with her Lord cousin (and also apparently not fuck buddies with her Lord cousin), whom she did not know existed until yesterday, is spilling her heart out to them in the most reluctant manner possible and also crying. What a day it’s been. But she nods at Dwirhian’s words, giving Oziah an encouraging look.

Varga sighs and puts her bear cloak on Oziah’s shoulders, the biggest expression of empathy she’s capable of. She stares into the distance with a furrowed brow. She hadn’t prayed much recently. She thinks she should. After all, it seems that dedicating your entire life to battle and conquest is a rather minor task when it comes to deities, and she should consider herself quite fortunate.

Oziah looks down at the hand squeezing hers like she doesn’t understand what it’s doing and then grabs a little at the cloak over her shoulders. She takes a couple of measured breaths and visibly collects herself and quickly erects several walls to their previous height. Or at least, tries to.

She works her jaw a couple of times.

“Thank you. And my apologies.”

“No need to apologise.” Igrainne shoots her a lopsided grin.

“Your cousin won’t let me live this down. Ever.”

She couldn’t help but snort out a giggle. “Yeah. He won’t. You should talk to him though. He’s got more insight into this kind of stuff than I do.

“Hey, it's good to let it out sometimes,” says Dwirhian, releasing Oziah's hand and smiling.

She glances over at Varga.

"Most of the time," Varga nods confidently.

Oziah huffs a laugh. “Rarely. Can’t be good for your health. Best to lock it all away.”

Igrainne suddenly sees why she and her Lord cousin get along so well.

Oziah frowns a little for a moment.

“I have never known faith without bondage. I don’t know what yours entails,” she looks between Varga and Igrainne, “but I hope it’s something you chose. And something you can walk away from should you ever wish it.”

Igrainne nods at her words but abruptly freezes at the last sentence. Then she nods again, harder this time.

“For sure.”

"I was born into this life,” Varga says, “but I'd choose it again if I was given the choice. Maybe it's because... nobody ever told me I can't walk away."

Oz looks a little helpless in the face of the plain and simple truth of that statement, before nodding.



Dwirhian says in a slightly humorous tone, “Well it seems like gods can walk away, anyhow. Apparently Corellon's, like, on holiday or something!”

Igrainne grins for a second before the words register.

"Haha, yeah I guess it's like a jo-- Wait, what."

The ranger feels a chill creep up her back, a glimmer of eyes over her shoulder. Her job is now to listen carefully.

"What do you mean 'on holiday'? Like, they're just gone? Are their clerics and paladins aware of this?" she asks Dwirhian.

Oziah drinks some more whiskey and mutters, “Good. Hope they all toddle off. And stay gone.”

“Oh, um, I don't know honestly,” Dwirhian says, unsure. “I was kind of joking about the holiday. BB just mentioned a while back that Corellon is... I can't remember what she said, like, having a rest? Gone away for a bit? Why, is it important?”

“W-well, uh, I dunno actually. It could be, it might not be.” Igrainne thinks for a second, then lets out a small scoff. “It shouldn’t be surprising that Corellon just fucked off on a whim. You saw what they were like at Vera’s thing, can’t make up their mind at all!”

Dwirhian laughs and Varga scoffs at the suggestion. “Don’t think gods are anything like Vera’s illusions. If people could make them do stuff, doubt they’d be gods.”

Igrainne shrugs.

“Well, based on the stories of Corellon that I’ve heard, it was a pretty faithful and traditional depiction of them, I think. Those weren’t actually gods, but rather images of them. Sentient images. Which is scary to think about…”

Dwirhian senses a good story.

“By the way, Igrainne, I meant to ask – would you tell me the story some time, the way you've learned it? About Lolth and the abyss and all of that?”

Oziah perks up just ever so slightly, and slides the flask over towards Igrainne in case of religious trauma. The half-drow shakes her head politely, and Oziah takes it back, seemingly content to finish it off herself. Igrainne looks at Dwirhian again.

“The story of the schism you mean?”

“Yeah, that sounds like the one. I love it when there are different versions of the same story, ones that get passed on through different routes, you know? I'll ask Vera for her version but I'd love to hear yours too.”

"Oh, it's the same as the one I told you just now. Really, the only big difference is that in the version my mother told me, Lolth escaped Corellon's hunt and ended up in the Demonweb Pits, as opposed to being caught and banished against her will. Maybe there are other variations of this with slightly different details, I dunno."

From where she’s sunk deeper into Varga’s thick cloak, Oziah mutters,

"There's probably one that emphasizes the size of Corellon's giant fucking arrow."

"That's...likely,” Igrainne nods.



Igrainne lays out the events of the Schism for Dwirhian. Varga interjects once of twice to point out that neither of them could have been very smart since they both made an enemy of Gruumsh, but that at least they weren’t turncoats. Dwirhian asks for more details on their opposition to Gruumsh. Varga gives plenty of them, seemingly confusing Dwirhian even more. Igrainne starts up on the topic of a cooperation of drow and orcs in northern Faerûn back in 1484 during the War of the Silver Marshes. Varga shoots back that Lolth didn’t so much oppose Gruumsh but didn’t help enough. Apparently it’s very easy to fall out with orc deities.

Oziah rolls over on her side, holding tight to the thick bear cloak and resting her head on Deimos bony flank. She falls asleep to the sound of the others speaking and the fire crackling, muttering something about getting her hands on, “One of them big plane piercing phallic fucking arrows.”

Igrainne looks over and whispers quietly to Dwirhian.

“She’s much less elegant when she’s sleeping.”