Oh man. My hand is tired. So many stupid little details! D:
Anyway, without further adieu, Vierdah!
The creature had been watching these spectacles occur for some time. This residence was apparently quite busy. Water slid from her face as she surfaced, passively rolling onto her back. The uncharted rapids that cut through the depths of the earth were as swift as any surface filth, but around this bend was a rather stagnant area, home to a myriad of unpleasant organisms that scholars above ground would have no worldly name for.
Vierdah was one of them.
Barely topping five feet, the very bizarre female still held her own amongst the more reprehensible beings of the underworld. Syryl were a rare species of aquiferous humanoid, closely related to mermaids, but far more nefarious and nothing like the lovely fishtailed maidens the harebrained sailors of lands above described in fireside tales to their children. Due to their taciturn behavior, only a handful of drow and other ilk had the remotest inkling of their existence, and upon describing their encounters were usually thought mad. Syryl had an especially unpleasant reputation for luring unsuspecting victims into their darkened whirpools, and consequently devouring them. Their menu was not exceedingly particular. Fish were a staple, but unfortunate beings foolish enough to heed the call of the wicked cave sirens were led to an untimely and gruesome death.
Unless, that was, they had something to offer.
Syryl were an inquisitive race. They lusted after knowledge to attain virility, and knowledge was something the forsaken Illythiiri had cultivated down to an artform, here in their darkened abyss(and what else could they do in the midst of all this anarchy?). Despite her outwardly barbaric visage, the creature had passively watched the comings and goings of uncounted decades, and was therefore quite sapient. One could only gain so much from quiet observation, however, and naturally, Vierdah was somewhat dissatisfied; though, to simply waltz into the streets of wretched Au Shindaugo unannounced would be most unwise. The Drow, with their silly hunger for all that was chaotic, had earned themselves quite the network of unseemly misfortunes. Trust was something of a paradox in this world, as it could always be bought off by power and fear or exchanged for something else. It had only to depend on who was the higher bidder. As such, a creature they'd never seen or even heard of would immediately warrant suspicion, or even violence.
Thus, Vierdah watched. Her primary subject at the moment was currently absorbed in a rather vehement display, screaming blasphemies in some infernal tongue. She'd seen his visitors come and go for many days now, obviously preparing for some sort of conflict. Vierdah was disinterested in the trivial feuds of Illythiiri, having only passing thoughts on the matter. Still, the race had amused her this long. Her opportunity would reveal itself in time, which was something Vierdah possessed nearly exponential amounts of.
She laughed; a harsh, guttural sound in her dualtoned voice, and sank once more beneath the glassy liquid, black eyes on the gate.