war of the spider queen 1 dissolution

diving　in　a　controlled　manner。
Gromph　was　mildly　impressed。　A　venom　bolt　would　kill　most　creatures；　certainly　most　of　the　petty　vermin　one　encountered　in　the　empty　places　between　the　worlds。
Manipulating　an　empty　cocoon；　he　cast　another　spell。　The　beast’s　body　crumpled　and　folded　into　itself；　and　for　a　heartbeat；　it　was　a　helpnotlessly　tumbling　mouse…then　it　swelled　and　rippled　back　into　its　natural　form。
All　right；　thought　Gromph；　then　I’ll　cut　you　up。
He　prepared　to　conjure　a　hail　of　blades；　but　at　that　moment；　the　creanotture　accelerated。
Gromph　had　no　idea　the　creature　could　descend　any　faster　than　it　had　hitherto；　and　he　wasn’t　prepared　for　the　sudden　burst　of　speed。　The　creature　closed　the　distance　between　them　in　an　instant；　until　it　was　hovering　right　in　his　face。
It　had　the　melted　or　unfinished　look　mon　to　many　such　beings。　Rows　of　blank　little　eyes　and　a　writhing　proboscis　sat　off　center　in　its　bump　of　a　head；　only　vaguely　differentiated　from　its　rubbery　blob　of　a　body。　The　monster　possessed　no　wings；　but　it　was　flying…the　goddess　only　knew　how。　Its　legs　were　the　most　articulate　part　of　it。　Ten　thin；　segnotmented　members　terminated　in　barbed　hooks；　which　lashed　at　Gromph　again　and　again　and　again。
As　he　expected；　the　frenzied　scratching　failed　to　harm　him。　The　ennotchantments　woven　into　Gromph’s　piwafwi…not　to　mention　a　ring　and　an　amulet…armored　him　at　least　as　well　as　a　suit　of　plate。　Still；　it　irked　him　that　he　had　allowed　the　beast　to　get　so　close；　and　he　felt　more　irritated　still　when　he　noticed　that　the　creature’s　exertions　were　flinging　tiny　smoking　droplets　of　his　own　conjured　acid　onto　his　person。
He　growled　a　final　spell　and　snatched　hold　of　the　malodorous　predator；　seizing　handfuls　of　the　blubber　on　its　torso。　Instantly　the　magic　began　its　work。　Strength　and　vitality　flowed　into　him；　and　he　cried　out　at　the　shocknoting　pleasure　of　it。
He　was　drinking　his　adversary’s　very　life；　much　as　a　vampire　might　have　done。　The　flying　creature　buzzed；　thrashed；　and　became　still。　It　withered；　cracked；　and　rotted　in　his　grasp。　Finally；　when　he　was　certain　he’d　sucked　out　every　vestige　of　life；　he　shoved　it　away。
Focusing　his　will；　he　arrested　his　fall　and　drifted　upward　again。　After　a　few　minutes；　he　spied　the　opening　at　the　top　of　the　shaft。　He　floated　through；　grabbed　a　convenient　handrail；　pulled　himself　over　onto　the　floor　of　the　workroom；　then　allowed　his　weight　to　return。　His　vestments　rustled　as　they　settled　around　him。
The　large　circular　chamber　was　in　most　respects　a　part　of　the　tower　of　Sorcere…the　school　of　wizardry　over　which　the　Archmage　presided…but　Gromph　was　reasonably　certain　that　none　of　the　masters　of　Sorcere　susnotpected　its　existence；　accustomed　to　secret　and　magical　architecture　though　they　were。　The　place；　lit　by　everlasting　candles　like　the　office　below；　was　well　nigh　undetectable；　even　unguessable；　because　its　tenant　had　set　it　a　little　apart　from　normal　space　and　conventional　time。　In　some　subtle　renotspects　it　existed　in　the　distant　past；　in　the　days　of　Menzoberranzan　the　Kinless；　founder　of　the　city；　and　in　another　way；　in　the　remote　and　unknowable　future。　Yet　on　the　level　of　gross　mortal　existence；　it　sat　firmly　in　the　presnotent；　and　Gromph　could　work　his　most　clandestine　magic　there　secure　in　the　knowledge　that　it　would　affect　the　Menzoberranzan　of　today。　It　was　a　neat　trick；　and　sometimes　he　almost　regretted　killing　the　seven　prisoners；　master　mages　all；　who　had　helped　him　build　the　place　in　exchange；　they　imagined；　for　their　freedom。　They　had　been　genuine　artists；　but　there　was　no　point　in　creating　a　hidden　refuge　unless　one　ensured　it　would　remain　hidden。
Dusting　a　few　specks　and　smears　of　the　flying　vermin　from　his　nimble　hands；　Gromph　moved　to　the　section　of　the　room　containing　an　extensive　collection　of　wizard’s　tools。　Humming；　he　selected　a　spiral…carved　ebony　staff　from　a　wyvern’s…foot　stand；　an　onyx…studded　iron　amulet　from　its　velvet…lined　box；　and　a　wickedly　curved　athame　from　a　rack　of　similar　ritual　knives。　He　sniffed　several　ceramic　pots　of　incense　before　finally　senotlecting；　as　he　often　did；　the　essence　of　black　lotus。
As　he　murmured　an　invocation　to　the　Abyssal　powers　and　lit　a　brazen　censor　with　the　tame　little　flame　he　could　conjure　at　will；　he　hesitated。　To　his　surprise；　he　found　himself　wondering　if　he　truly　wanted　to　proceed。
Menzoberranzan　was　in　desperate　straits；　even　though　most　of　her　citinotzens　hadn’t　yet　realized　it。　In　Gromph’s　place；　many　another　wizard　would　embrace　the　situation　as　an　unparalleled　opportunity　to　enhance　his　own　power；　but　the　Archmage　saw　deeper。　The　city　had　experienced