Author's Note: This story picks up on the adventures of Pharaun Mizzrym, a Master of Sorcere. Pharaun debuted in the War of the Spider Queen as a sarcastic, quick-witted, pragmatic, and very powerful mage sent with an elite group to find out why Lolth, the Spider Queen, goddess of the drow, had silenced and not answered her children's prayers.

Spoiler Warning!

Pharaun's companions were Quenthel Baenre, high priestess of Arach-Tinilith, the training ground for Lolth's priestesses; Valas Hune, scout and guide in the employ of Bregan D'aerthe; Ryld Argith, Master swordsman of Melee-Magthere, training ground for drow warriors, and as close a friend as Pharaun had; Jeggred Baenre, a draegloth, a four-armed, very dangerous half-demon, half-drow, nephew to Quenthel; Halisstra Melarn, whose house fell with the destruction of drow city Ched Nasad, also priestess of Lolth who later converted to Eilistraee; and Danifae, battle-captive to Halisstra, who later escaped captivity and subverted Jeggred to her will.

The companions battled their way through innumerable conflicts, often relying on Pharaun's magic as a trump card since the priestesses' divine magic was denied them. The dangers were not only without, however. Being dark elves, betrayal was a way of life, and the group soon split into those who acknowledged Quenthel as leader and those who supported Danifae. Pharaun stood by Quenthel, albeit grudgingly.

The group finally made it to the Demonweb Pits. Ryld had been killed earlier by Jeggred on Danifae's orders. Valas had deserted them. In the final battle, Pharaun was slain by being betrayed by Quenthel and being eaten alive by a horde of spiders.

Danifae was chosen by Lolth to aid in her resurrection, melding with Lolth, becoming her. Halisstra was doomed to a fate worse than death by serving as a handmaiden. Quenthel was sent home with honor, which she did gladly after slaying Jeggred for his treachery.

After it was all said and done, Pharaun's lover, a half-demon named Aliisza, journeyed to the Demonweb Pits and recovered the biggest part of him she could find: a finger with the Sorcere ring on it. With it she flew away, pondering what to do with it.

Obviously, that was a super-shortened summary of six fantastic books. You really ought to read them if you haven't already. You'll probably understand this fic a lot better if you do, and it features an awesome battle between archmage Gromph Baenre and a very powerful lichdrow.

Enjoy.

The Further Adventures of Pharaun Mizzrym

Chapter One

Resurrection

Many believe they understand pain.

They do not.

Pharaun Mizzrym understood pain. He comprehended the true meaning of it. Scratching yourself against a sharp rock did not produce pain. Breaking an arm did not produce pain. Getting eaten alive by spiders did not produce pain.

Living produced pain.

Life was pain. Pain was everything, quite simply. Pain was the natural order of things. All things not in pain were an abomination, something to be feared and shunned.

Pharaun Mizzrym did not scream.

He was well beyond that.

He had a body. He did not. He had lungs to scream with, no, they were gone, weren't they? He opened his eyes, but they had been plucked out by ravenous spiders. Hadn't they? Then how come he could see?

His sensible mind grappled with the dichotomy. Except his mind was in the grip of chaos; he could not string two thoughts together. He could not even remember his own name.

"Pharaun."

Huh?

"Pharaun, honey, come back to me. I'm lonely."

Aliisza? Wait…who? Pharaun struggled against the ever-present pain to bring his thoughts into order. He had just thought a name, but he could not remember what it was.

"Pharaun! Wake up! Now!"

Pharaun's eyes snapped open, and the pain burst like a bubble, leaving nothing behind but a hideous memory.

A muffled thud sounded behind him, and he turned to see Aliisza standing over a figure clad in black robes, robes that were drenched in blood.

"My thanks, Memhast, but I'm afraid I actually have no way to pay for this," said Aliisza to the fallen figure. She turned away from him with no further thought.

Pharaun tried to speak, but nothing came out except a strange gurgling sound. You have to remember to breathe, you idiot, Pharaun chided himself. He sucked in a deep gulp of hair, wincing as his lungs expanded for the first time. "What…who…?" he managed to get out. His thoughts were still somewhat scattered.

A perfectly manicured fingernail slipped under his chin and forced his eyes up into Aliisza's. "It's okay, Sweetie," she said. "I won't let the mean old spiders get you anymore."

A sudden memory flashed through Pharaun's mind. Millions of tiny legs…countless biting teeth. An involuntary whimper escaped his mouth.

"There, there," cooed Aliisza, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing his face against her bosom. "Nothing's going to hurt you, darling. I'm here. I'm here."

Pharaun couldn't help it; he burst into tears. Several minutes passed; the only sounds were the drow's wracking sobs and the alu-fiend's soft reassurances.

Finally, the mage's weeping subsided, and he made to wipe his tears away on the sleeve of his robe…except he then realized he was naked. He looked up into Aliisza's knowing smile as she got up and crossed the room to the body lying on the floor. Disrespectfully, she tore the robe off the corpse and handed it to Pharaun.

"It's a little bloodstained, I'm afraid, but it'll have to do until we find you something better." She giggled. "Unless you want to try to fit into my clothes, which you're welcome to." She eased herself into her familiar seductive pose.

As it turns out, resurrection does wonders for turning your mind away from baser desires, and Pharaun was in no mood for Aliisza's games. "This'll work," he said, throwing the robe around himself. He slid off the bare table he had been sitting on and began walking toward her. He stumbled and nearly fell. A tingle spread through his legs, like millions of microscopic ants trundling just under his skin.

"Easy there, Tiger," said Aliisza. "This is a brand-new body. It's not used to the things you're used to. You're going to have to rebuild all those muscles you designed for a specific purpose, such as gestures for spellcasting. It'll be annoying, but at least you're alive, eh?"

"How?" mumbled Pharaun. It was still difficult to think of coherent sentences, much less the witty replies he was used to.

Aliisza pointed to the body on the floor. "Memhast, a necromancer with some pretty radical ideas. He was able to rebuild a body for you using your finger that I recovered. He then was able to call your spirit back and put it into this body. Pretty clever of me, huh?" She kissed him passionately, which Pharaun returned as best he could, but his lips were unused to such things.

"Sorry," he muttered.

She smiled a perfectly wicked smile. "All in good time, my precious little drowling. I'm not giving up on you yet. In a few weeks, I'm sure you'll be just magnificent."

Pharaun flexed his hands; the skin was tight. He had just endured hell.

He smiled.

But he was back.