<strong>Location: House Llaeloth's throne room<br/>Time: Morning</strong><br/><br/>Faeremhara Llaeloth<br/><br/>"Well, if there is nothing else..."<br/><br/>Faeremhara waved to Zeranth, for him to lead Trinadril to centre-stage. Her adopted daughter was pretty, of course, despite being half<em>human</em>. Still, clearly her human parent was as dark as her Drow parent, as her skin was very nearly jet black. Her ears were less pronounced than in full-blooded elves, and her hair was a pale blonde rather than white. Likewise her eyes were brown, not red, but still... she carried herself with the arrogance of a Drow, which was to be expected. Worryingly, she was clad in a fine spider-silk gown, clearly something expensive, and with a gold clasp at the neck, shaped like a spider.<br/><br/>Her consort then stepped up to the throne and knelt, holding the rod of correction across his palms. It was a fairly thin rod, woven from thin black sticks and pieces of vermin carapace, wound tightly into one stick, then bound in web and lacquered so as to retain strength, tightness and flexibility - and to shine in the dim light. Accepting the rod, the Matron flexed it.<br/><br/>"I think you know why you are here, daughter-mine. Explain your expenditures and the lack of production immediately."<br/><br/>"Please!" the half-elf begged, prostrating herself before Faeremhara, "What I explained was true! The centipedes, lizards and scorpions we feed the spiders is usually perfect nutrition, but recently something seems to be wrong with them - many strands they weave have turned out to be poor quality - too thin to use without breaking, or damaged from the start. We need to look into an alternate food source, at least temporarily."<br/><br/>"And one has been arranged. I will be feeding them slaves for the time being. We'll see how they enjoy goblinoid flesh. However... I can't help but notice your wardrobe today. I wonder if there has also been some amount used for your own ends. And indeed, regarding your expenditures, you have not explained yourself."<br/><br/>For some time, she waited, while Trinadril remained silent. Finally, the weaver confessed.<br/><br/>"...forgive me. I have stolen from you to decorate myself."<br/><br/>The Matron gave a thin-lipped smile at this.<br/><br/>"In that case, I will tell you now: if it happens again, I will use my scourge to beat you to within an inch of your life... then that last inch will be taken by your own spiders as they feast upon you from within your body. I am going to be merciful this one time only, and in return I expect your complete loyalty. So..."<br/><br/>She slowly stood up, flexing the rod again.<br/><br/>"Take those clothes off - carefully - and hand them to a servant. They belong to me, now. When I am done with you, you can make your way back to your room nude, displaying the welts I am going to give you.<br/><br/>Everyone who wishes to watch? You may take a seat and get comfortable."