Book One, Chapter Four, Post Twenty-Eight

“It would be unwise to harm any of the children of the Scorpion Queen,” a hissing voice floats from the mine. “As it would be unwise to incite my vengeance.”

From the shadows, only palely illuminated by the muted magical lights, a creature creeps from the darkness of the cavern. She is tall — if such a beast can even be regarded as a she — and her pale elf torso sits upon the body and spindly legs of a white, almost eerily glowing scorpion. Venom drips from the fangs that part her lips.

"I have no desire to anger you,” Tyrects growls, “but we are short on time. Name your price for your help, we will pay. We can get gold I am sure, or goods, or a favor... The one thing we cannot lose right now is time."

Quiberron finishes his ritual and puts away his spellbook. “Ooooohh.... what’s that... I mean what is she... how interesting.” He is peering intently at the being in the cavern, making furious mental notes. “Hey Sabal, is that one of your compatriots?”

"It was an elf once….” Sabal whispers in reply. “The Pale Goddess saves her worst punishments for her own followers."