Sacred chanting blended together until the sound seemed droned back from the pitch shaded walls around her. Though her fellow Priestess' offered to make such a holy experience as the one she was having now relatively pain free, Akoragh had flatly refused it, despite this being her first. Some of her sisters curled their lips, some bowed their heads. The rest took their places along the sides of richly prepared bed. Six to either side, their black skin during the first hours showed no sweat, and Akoragh faired well.
Twelve hours into the birthing and Akoragh had shred her clothes to pieces, giant belly rolling taut with labor pains as her body siezed to expel the growth within. The women lining her bed to chant praises and thanks to Lloth, blessing the child drowned out the only acknowledgment of pain Akoragh felt; low moans as the sheets churned like the sea, like the giant of her belly.
The mid wife's once ageless features had long fallen into the ruin of wisdom and age. Between the thrashing knees of Akoragh she crowed with praise.
"Lloth be praised, here is the head. Push now, Mistress, Pu--"
"I AM PUSHING YOU SAGGY TEETED OLD COW," Akoragh's snarled insult only brought the midwife's tight lipped grim smile. Five hundred years of giving birth to the Underdarks' future and she had heard, as well as seen it all. It was a simple thing to dodge the flung vase aimed randomly down at her, while Akoragh curled her body in half seated position, spine curving downward to finally give in to the overwhelming pressure to bear down...To rid herself of this growth that struggled to free itself of womb.
"Push." The midwife commanded, the only time in her life in which her station outranked the females around her.
The twelve along the bed began to chant louder.
"Push!" Again the midwife commanded just as Akoragh seemed to take a breath and might have fallen back. The woman's voice whip cracked like snake headed weapon, catching the laboring female's hate in burning eyes. Akoragh, however, pushed. Harder.
The twelve along the bed chanted at fever pitch.
Akoragh's excruciating scream carried through the very bones of those gathered, the males stationed outside and perhaps further as a babe, slime covered and screaming its own protest slid quick with a burst of fluid from canal.
The midwife caught babe with wizened hands that had caught countless other little black bundles and rough linens scoured the babes black skin. Even now, still half covered in birthing fluid, she could see the purple highlights.
Akoragh had fallen back into her piles of purple satin, half upright and struggling to maintain the appearance of collection. "Well, crone? What is it?" Snapped irritably, a long fingered hand spidering to a cup of wine at her bed.
"Be proud, Mistress. You have given your house a female to carry your name." The baby was presented to Akoragh's disinterested inspection. Like most newly made mother's to daughters, she was no doubt already planning on how best to circumvent her daughter's attempts to oust her from her own power--there was no affection in Akoragh's features. Had the midwife found any, there would be cause for alarm.
The female's cries from rough handling and cleaning continued. Strong and healthy.
"Name her after my mother, and take her. I cannot abide by the whining of mewling babies."
The midwife had already handed the babe to a girl employed in the house' livery, who, aware of her mistress' needs, bared black breast on her way out the door to feed the babe. The males at either side of the door dare not even breath nor look up as she passed; even she was far above their rank, never mind the priestess gathered inside who gave their blessing to female and daughter as they swept out for their duties elsewhere.
Akoragh respectfully inclined her head to the Priestess' and murmured appropriate words. When they left and the midwife went about cleaning up Akoragh snapped irritably once again.
"Hurry it up, I wish a bath and--"
Akoragh's lethargic snarl was startled silent by a weak, small, whining little cry from the bed between her legs. Even the midwife stared down a moment blankly.
There in the afterbirth of his sister was a tiny male child, delicate rib cage sucking in rattling breath to announce his life to the two stunned females within the room.
Twelve hours into the birthing and Akoragh had shred her clothes to pieces, giant belly rolling taut with labor pains as her body siezed to expel the growth within. The women lining her bed to chant praises and thanks to Lloth, blessing the child drowned out the only acknowledgment of pain Akoragh felt; low moans as the sheets churned like the sea, like the giant of her belly.
The mid wife's once ageless features had long fallen into the ruin of wisdom and age. Between the thrashing knees of Akoragh she crowed with praise.
"Lloth be praised, here is the head. Push now, Mistress, Pu--"
"I AM PUSHING YOU SAGGY TEETED OLD COW," Akoragh's snarled insult only brought the midwife's tight lipped grim smile. Five hundred years of giving birth to the Underdarks' future and she had heard, as well as seen it all. It was a simple thing to dodge the flung vase aimed randomly down at her, while Akoragh curled her body in half seated position, spine curving downward to finally give in to the overwhelming pressure to bear down...To rid herself of this growth that struggled to free itself of womb.
"Push." The midwife commanded, the only time in her life in which her station outranked the females around her.
The twelve along the bed began to chant louder.
"Push!" Again the midwife commanded just as Akoragh seemed to take a breath and might have fallen back. The woman's voice whip cracked like snake headed weapon, catching the laboring female's hate in burning eyes. Akoragh, however, pushed. Harder.
The twelve along the bed chanted at fever pitch.
Akoragh's excruciating scream carried through the very bones of those gathered, the males stationed outside and perhaps further as a babe, slime covered and screaming its own protest slid quick with a burst of fluid from canal.
The midwife caught babe with wizened hands that had caught countless other little black bundles and rough linens scoured the babes black skin. Even now, still half covered in birthing fluid, she could see the purple highlights.
Akoragh had fallen back into her piles of purple satin, half upright and struggling to maintain the appearance of collection. "Well, crone? What is it?" Snapped irritably, a long fingered hand spidering to a cup of wine at her bed.
"Be proud, Mistress. You have given your house a female to carry your name." The baby was presented to Akoragh's disinterested inspection. Like most newly made mother's to daughters, she was no doubt already planning on how best to circumvent her daughter's attempts to oust her from her own power--there was no affection in Akoragh's features. Had the midwife found any, there would be cause for alarm.
The female's cries from rough handling and cleaning continued. Strong and healthy.
"Name her after my mother, and take her. I cannot abide by the whining of mewling babies."
The midwife had already handed the babe to a girl employed in the house' livery, who, aware of her mistress' needs, bared black breast on her way out the door to feed the babe. The males at either side of the door dare not even breath nor look up as she passed; even she was far above their rank, never mind the priestess gathered inside who gave their blessing to female and daughter as they swept out for their duties elsewhere.
Akoragh respectfully inclined her head to the Priestess' and murmured appropriate words. When they left and the midwife went about cleaning up Akoragh snapped irritably once again.
"Hurry it up, I wish a bath and--"
Akoragh's lethargic snarl was startled silent by a weak, small, whining little cry from the bed between her legs. Even the midwife stared down a moment blankly.
There in the afterbirth of his sister was a tiny male child, delicate rib cage sucking in rattling breath to announce his life to the two stunned females within the room.