The Tome Of Drow Lore.pdf - RoseRed

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Kathricia would not stop screaming. My attempts to quiet her only doubled her efforts, so mad had she become by what
she had seen. I slit her throat.
I believe I have escaped from the Kanahraun, or rather, survived without them taking notice of me. Still, I shall not feel safe
until I am far from this place.
As noted in my previous entries, we had journeyed to the lands claimed by the Kanahraun under the protection of two score
mercenaries bought with a fortune in the Seekers’ gold. We had thought that more than sufficient, but we were wrong.
The Kanahraun are not mere bone-wielding regressed savages of our race, though they are savage and barbarous beyond
measure. I had thought the tales of them only fanciful exaggeration. Instead, I have found they fall far short of the truth.
The first group we encountered was but a handful, and so stealthy we scarcely noticed them. They melted away before
our numbers, and we followed, hoping to learn if they had a city or settlement, hoping to find what had happened to them
following the Sundering. In a sense, we did.
The first group led us into an ambush so cunning we remained ignorant of it until the first spears fell. Then, the Kanahraun
were among us. Kathricia and I were invisible, which is all that saved us. These feral drow attacked with the fury of a rabid
beast, leaping upon our hired swords, their scarred and pierced bodies clad in patchwork armour barely visible beneath the
tanned skins and scalps of their victims. Commanding them was a male drow with the eyes of a snake, armed and armoured
with bones that seemed fused together. Strong men withered and died at the touch of his sword.
Within moments, our mercenaries were slain. And then the Kanahraun began to feast, ripping the flesh of the fallen with
teeth filed into fangs and slurping the blood from still-seeping wounds. When they had eaten their fill, the snake-eyed man
chanted an invocation to a god of whom I have never heard, Azzanoth the Glutton, and the bodies of the slain mercenaries
rose, shuffling to follow the Kanahraun, strips of their mangled flesh trailing the ground behind them.
Already, Kathricia was beginning to murmur, lips shaking in fear, but I was able to muffle her for the moment. The memory
drove her mad over the next few days, and it is doubtless for the best she is dead, as someone so weak would have made a
poor Hidden Blade.
Now that I have seen the Kanahraun in battle, I believe we must try again to make contact with them. When the time comes
for the Return, they would make a powerful weapon.
- From the Journal of Meassath tel’Rassahn, Hidden Blade of the Seekers of na’Koth
with filed teeth and an insatiable lust for blood. On the
other hand are the Kanahraun’s ruling class, born of the
descendants of Azzanoth, full of cruel sophistication and
steeped in wicked knowledge. The second control the first
with an iron fist, keeping them leashed and in line like one
would a not-quite-trained attack dog.
At birth, the Kanahraun do not appear any different from
normal drow, with the exception of the minor fiendish
attributes seen in the ruling class, commonly born with
claws, fangs or slitted eyes. This resemblance to other
drow soon ends, however.
Beginning in childhood, the Kanahraun torment and
disfigure their own bodies in praise of Azzanoth the
Glutton. By the time an individual reaches adulthood, his
body is a map of ritual scars, gouged and branded into his
flesh. The ears are notched and even the hair is marred
with scars dug into the flesh of the scalp. The mouth may
be the most-altered part of the Kanahraun anatomy, with
split lips, teeth filed into fangs and a tongue slit to resemble
that of a snake all common traits.
Life and Death with the Kanahraun
There is no real concept of marriage or family among the
Kanahraun, only of clan and class. The strongest mate with
whomever they choose, and gladly fight to the death should
jealousy in their choice of mate rear its head. The closest
thing to marriage in the society is when a particularly strong
and powerful drow scars or brands his or her favoured mate
with a mark to indicate ownership. This is usually not
necessary, as by the time such an action is taken, the other