The Drow Invasion

The Drow Invasion posted by tel'Mithrim on Cermie 25, 2001

Ever watchful over the glade of the elves...

From the dark inside of the huge, hollow tree, Vorn, a drow sargtlin, looked out on the unbearable brightness of the glade. Even under the influence of the Darksight Potion, he found the daylight painful. He took another swig, and after a short time, the brightness faded enough so that his headache began to subside. He wiggled back down between the roots of the tree into the soothing darkness of the small hole he had found and waited for night to fall.

He was a good soldier. He would of course do whatever was required of him by his mistress; nevertheless, he found everything about this excursion to the surface distasteful.

He considered himself lucky to have found this hollow tree. The tree was near the riverbank where the darkness of shadows and the cool breeze off the water was at least of some relief from the sun and the damned miserable heat. The tree was also close to the glade of the elves, and this was essential.

Still of concern, however, was the disgusting smell of flowers, the nauseating extravagance of color and the incessant chatter of the birds. All things considered, the noises were the worst...even more than the light, which could be countered by taking the potion the priestess had given him. There was nothing to be done about the noise, however, so he just covered his ears with his hands and tried to calm himself. All the wretched forest noises seemed to join together in a conspiracy against his sanity--the constant gurgling of the river nearby, the buzzing insects, those despicable birds fluttering here and there chirping like idiots, even the wind in the leaves joined with other aspects of sound to contribute to the general racke. It was a ceaseless torture, and it was only with calm and practiced discipline that he had not initially gone mad.

He turned his attention back to his work. Over the last few days, he had managed to dig out between the roots and now had a fair sized hole, not quite a cave, but a significant space under the tree with room enough for him to stretch out and sleep with reasonable comfort. He even had a place for his pack with the few supplies that he required. Satisfied with his cool, dark hole, he scooted back up between the roots and crouched in the hollow of the tree.

He estimated that it would be dark in a few hours, and he sent a silent praise to Lloth, shuddering only slightly as he thought of his mistress and her orders to be ever watchful over the glade of the elves.

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Mallen en' Coia (Circle of Life)
Posted by Morion Kuu on Urime 20, 2001

From where Morion Kuu sat on the balcony of his two-story log house he could see the mouth of the river as it spilled into the bay. He sipped casually at a glass of fey wine and surveyed the surface of the water. He leaned back in the chair and put his feet up on the table. Tyl wasn't around to fuss, and he loved leaning backward in the chair and looking out at the river. He knew every ripple, every bend, every swirl behind every rock and log because this was his river. He knew of course that it wasn't his river. No one, especially an elf, could ever possess anything in nature, certainly not a river, and certainly not in the twisted way that the edan, who bought and sold land and declared ownership, claimed to possess it.

His thoughts turned to the unpleasant edan who lived to the north and west of him-the one who claimed to own the land and paid particular attention to boundaries and such legal nonsense as deeds. Morion had talked with him once about 30 years ago and had found him to be obviously insane. He even considered transplanting a mound of termites under the man's house as a demonstration. He laughed again at the thought. He also remembered why he had decided not to do it. As he turned the corner on the age-old thought process of understanding certain edan, he realized once again that it was all part of their delusion. It was an edan mania of sorts, brought on by their short life spans. He smiled as he thought about how the edan had tried to argue with him about boundaries and ownership. He had given up the notion of the termites and at that point, deciding that it would be much more prudent, if not amusing, just to sit back and to watch the silly fool die of old age.

He rocked a bit in the chair, taking delight in the balance. His thoughts turned back to his river, the river that was his because it was in his heart. He was, taking note of the fish rising and nipping quiet circles that were only discernable for a moment as the evidence of their presence there quickly dissipated in the swift current. He smiled as he came to a conscious realization that nature would always speak to him if he listened. The fleeting evidence of the fish feeding was a metaphor of course-one that the edan had no way of understanding.

He looked back up river, past the large rock on the far bank. Something had moved there and had caught his attention. It had been only the slightest disturbance, but Morion was sure that something was wrong. The forest shadows seemed to deepen into the most intense blackness as he concentrated his gaze on that part of the forest. He flattened his vision, letting the depth of his focus trail off as he extended his elvan senses, blending more closely with the "mallen en' coia." It was then that he saw or rather felt the presence of the drow.

When elf and drow confront each other, even at a great distance, there is never any doubt as to the nature of the confrontation. It is an instinctive knowing of the other as something so opposite so totally alien that mistake is impossible. Morion felt his pulse quicken and the adrenalin rush through his body. He deliberately forced his concentration away to break the connection his senses had formed with the forest. He put on a casual demeanor, hoping that the drow had not felt him. As long as the drow felt undetected, Morion had the upper hand.

He thought back to the last gathering. Thrand and Brisid had warned of the drow presence in the glade. Thrand suggested that we simpley watch them for the time being-perhaps attempt to capture one if an opportunity presented itself. Sinjun and Celeb had been talking just the night before about a possible connection between the drow and Mord'sythe. Morion eased the chair back down to level. Leaving the glass of fey unfinished on the table, he slipped out of the house and quickly entered the forest.

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Unease
Posted by Tyl on Urime 20, 2001

She skirted the edges of the forest, one level of her senses attuned to the land and another just savoring the songs of birds. Those sweet little ones were her best friends next to Morion of course. Just the thought of him made her feel all silly, well sillier then normal, and a small smile tweaked at her lips. Quickly she dragged her thoughts to the land around her. Something had pierced her feelings of wellbeing and Tyl had to stop and try to find it. It was such an insignificant and vague sensation but strong enough to almost startle her. Tyl knelt down and sent all her senses slowly sweeping the forest around her. OUCH.. This time it was no insignificant perception, it was a very strong feeling that something or one had been in these woods and recently. That this someone had an evil aura to it was understood or it never would have bothered Tyl so much.
Slowly she sent her land sense out in ever-widening circles trying to locate the source. It took several tries and then Yes, There it is. But it was, whatever it was, a fair distance from where she was. But the location set her pulse racing and her concern building. Tyl swallowed the feeling of fear as she recognized the general area that the aura had been centered in was very close to home and Morion. Gracefully she stood up again and with an ease that only elves display she started to run lightly for home. From a practice of many years, she barely displaced event the leaves on the forest floor bed and was as silent as a slight breeze.
As she approached the homey Log that she and Morion lived in, Tyl slowed down and approached the cabin carefully. Her senses told her she was now close to the source and she didn't want to put herself in jeopardy any faster then she had to. Her bow swung off her shoulder and into her hands with the ease of a practiced archer. As she rounded the corner to the front of the house, the feelings got so strong it was as if she was rooted to the ground. Swallowing down her slight fear she looked all about but could not find the actual source so much as a residual trace and it seemed to come from across the river. However the bow stayed in her hands as she silently went into her beloved house. Mori was clearly not home and that made her even more anxious.. Where Was He? They were supposed to have a quiet and pleasant evening together.
Tyl bounded up the stairs to the balcony, he had been but was gone now. It was the glass of his favorite wine that stopped her cold. He would never leave a good, cool glass unfinished unless there had been an emergency. And yet there it was his half-empty glass still cool and inviting. Tyl forced herself to remain calm for although there had been something outside, she had not sensed any violence just the presence. Looking at the glass she could bring an image of Mori sitting back in his chair, and of course tilting it back, sipping that fine wine. She had to suppress an impulse to giggle at the image because she knew if she had been there he would never have put his feet on the table and tilted back. Mori hadn't figured it out yet that her biggest fear was that he would be hurt. And having a chair crashing back to the floor could be rather painful.
Slowly she left the house to try and track Mori and in all likelihood she would find him and the source of all her misgivings.

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The Capture
Posted by Brisid Celemegil on Urime 22

his eve, near the beginning of my shift at the Silver Arrow, I sighted several drow at the edges of Tel'Ruid, who were trying not to be seen. The first two appeared to be fighters, and when approached, they fled using Recall spells. The second I persued back and forth across Tel'Ruid; he was no doubt taunting me with his ability to so easily venture within our village.

Deciding that it was time we had a chat with one of them, I met up with Ledolas to scout around Tel'Ruid. Unfortunately, he had to leave soon after we started. However, as I crossed between the Smithy and Justice Shrine, a drow mage appeared and launched a fireball at me. I retaliated, and the running battle ended near the Silver Arrow, where I forced him to surrender. At swordpoint, I took him inside the tavern, where I questioned him.

His name is Istorvir. He claimed he came alone to the surface, and that he was in Tel'Ruid just "looking around". He said he came from a place several days away, underground. He also said he was forced to come to the surface, by what he wouldn't tell. Crimson Ghost also interrogated him, but that was about as much as he would reveal.

I locked him up in Ostar Tower, where he now remains. Perhaps sitting in there awhile will persuade him to be more talkative.

--Brisid

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through a scout's eyes...
Posted by a drow sargtlin on Urime 23, 2001

The seasoned drow sargtlin had been keeping tabs on the elven village for a few weeks now. He had been watching from the woods. From time to time search parties had sensed his presence but it didn't matter. He could easily slip away. He enjoyed the childish game of "cat and mouse". He was the cat and he was just toying with the foolish elves, the mice.

Lately, the elves had been actively tracking the sargtlin on his scouting trips. This also did not disturb the drow. He had more than one means of avoiding the pesky elves and their lackeys.

"Let them know i'm here." "They'll feel the presence of my poisoned darts soon enough"

He reflected on the encounter with the succubus and the dart he aimed at her. She too will learn...

The drow sargtlin had been teamed up with other drow in his scouting forays. Last eve, he returned later in the eve with another drow. Verin was his name. He was masterfully skilled in the art of avoidance. He proved a reliable partner in the past.

The two watched as a foolishly young drow mage was captured by the elves. A mage, scouting!?! Unbelievable!

"What a fool!" "Now i'll have to rescue the wretch." "I should just let the elves have their way with him, but i can not allow him to reveal any hint of our plans or reasons for being here." "I'll slit his throat myself."

With that said, he started devising a plan. He would need help. He was sure Verin and a few others would pitch in. Perhaps it's time the elves finally did learn part of the reason they were on the surface. One thing he was sure of, was that the green grass would soon be stained Crimson.

Weary of the eve's events, the drow slipped back deep into the woods to the small cave he had been using as a temporary lair

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Another sighting...
Posted by Anga on Urime 24, 2001

Anga sat in the Silver Arrow, having a quiet drink with a few other folk. Suddenly, the mute half-elf boy, Gawayn excitedly rushed to the nearest window only to point out a Drow scout, in the forest.

Like lightning, Anga leapt out of his chair, and was after the Drow. Moments later, as with the other chases, the drow had disappeared. By this time, Ledolas had arrived and suggested that they should attempt to trick the scout... so, all that were present proceeded to hide in the trees near where the Drow had disappeared.

After some time, the scout, obviously falling for the trick, made a dash for the forest Gawayn, a fast and foolish little child was quickly after him. Again, the Scout went missing, this time near the Faerie Tower. After a quick search of the area, Anga loosed a pigeon to Thranduil, requesting the aid of his remarkable tracking skills.

After what seemed like forever to Anga, Thrand turned up, casually walked over to the tower and exclaimed "No Drow tracks" and began to walk back to the Silver Arrow.
As he stepped into the clearing, a fast horse, carrying a Drow rider came speeding past nearly knocking Thrand to the ground. Quickly mounting, Thrand was after the Drow.

Time had passed, and Thrand had returned, claiming to have hit the Drow with an arrow. Apparantly, it was badly wounded. Continuing to search the area a little more, Anga returned finally to the Silver Arrow.

Thrand had shown everyone who was interested, where he had chased the Drow to... Anga arranged for a small scouting party to head there and look around.

The party, consisting of Anga, Celeb-Silma and Ai Lote saw no Drow movement, and reluctantly headed back. Perservering, Anga stayed and watched. Some time had passed before Anga heard the familiar voices of Strongbow and Veil, they were looking for something also...
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The Chase
Posted by Thrand on Urime 24, 2001

"No tracks here", Thrand said as he straightened back up from observing the ground near the Fae tower. He just shrugged at Ledolas and Anga. "Sorry." Then he stopped and tilted his head. There was a faint noise a bit to the south. Slowly, he drew an arrow from his quiver. There it was again, a slight rustling of leaves. Thrand glanced over at Ledolas and Anga to see if they had heard anything. Both were listening intently but had relaxed their hold on their bowstrings.

Then suddenly they all three heard something large crashing through the underbrush. Thrand pulled back on his bowstring and aimed at the noise. A dark elf on the back of an ostard suddenly burst into the open. Thrand let his arrow fly and saw it sink into the drow's leg. He cursed himself for the bad aim, not allowing for a mounted target. It had never even occurred to him. The dark elf leaned down as it rode by and sliced in a wide arc, forcing Thrand to his knees to avoid the blade. Then it was gone, plunging into the woods near the Fae tower.

Knowing he could never catch an ostard on foot, Thrand reached into his pack and tossed a horse statue onto the ground. It quickly grew into a full-sized ethereal horse which Thrand leaped onto. They charged into the hole in the underbrush left by the drow's mount, leaving behind the other two elves.

The chase was a long one. The dark elf was either lost or hoping to lose its pursuer because the trail was very erratic. Several times the drow attempted to hide in the underbrush only to be discovered and forced to flee again. Finally, the trail led into a dark tower near the crypts. Thrand paused there for awhile, resting and watching. There was no sign of the drow in the tower, but that's where the trail ended. It was almost as if there was a passage out below ground, perhaps leading into the crypts.

A short time later Thrand rode back to the Arrow. There he found Anga and Ledolas again. They decided to visit the tower. Ai Lote and a mute known as Gawayn also came along. The party cautiously slipped into the tower. Covering each other with partially drawn bows they explored all three floors. There was no furniture inside the tower until they reached the roof. There they found a large forge and several crates. They also found a tall obelisk.

Ledolas examined the runes on the stone. "Drow. Maerdyn, it says."

Thrand nodded and said, "It's a name, probably a house name. This could be bad".

"There could be a passage. Perhaps we should look for it", suggested Anga.

Thrand looked around thoughtfully. "That could be dangerous, it would be easy to fall into a trap."

They all felt uneasy at this point. Gawayn started to move his hands, speaking with gestures. Thrand shook his head. "Not here. This place is dangerous. Back to the Arrow."

They all slowly backed down the stairs and out of the tower. They didn't feel relaxed again until they got back within tel'Ruid.

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a wound, and a death...
Posted by Anga on Urime 25, 2001

Anga silently crept closer to the tower, he had tracked one of the drow to this location.
Not finding him in the area, Anga pushed the door to the tower open and peeked inside...

No sign of...

He didn't get to finish the thought as the hilt of a sword came crashing down on the back of Anga's head, stumbling back out in to the open and fumbling around for his sword. He soon felt the cold steel of the Drows' sword deep inside him, clutching his stomach he fell to the ground, passing out.

Thrand, obviously concerned that Anga had not returned yet headed out towards the tower in search of him...

"Uh oh"

Thrand whispered to himself, and moved in close to Anga. Looking around, he saw the culprit just as he said the words

"Kal Ort Por"

The offending Drow, was gone.
Awakening Anga, Thrand scooped him up, hurriedly dressed the stomach wound and tied him to a horse. Soon after, Thrand had safely taken Anga back to Tel'Ruid, and inside the Silver Arrow.

"No fermented..." Thrand warned, "You're lucky, it wasn't deep enough to disembowel you"

Looking out the window, Thrand saw movement... In a moment, he was out the door and after the Drow, he had obviously followed them, probably to finish the job.
Thrand rode hard, and in no time caught the Drow Sargtlin, who was on foot. The battle was quickly over, Thrand loosing arrows in to the chest of the Drow, blood exploding outward from burst lungs.

Anga gritted his teeth, bit down hard on a wand, and sucked in oxygen as Za'afiel began stiching his wounds together. Myriad, sitting opposite Anga spoke...

"Here, Sargtlin...Warrior... take my hand"

Anga slowly turned, his gaze full of rage at the half-drow. How dare she... suddenly, the closing of the wound was finished.

"Its been years since I've had to do that..." Za'afiel sighed.

Myriad tossed Anga a potion, confused, he asked Za'afiel if he should drink it...

Drink it, Anga.

In no time, Anga was asleep...
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Exhaustion
Posted by Thrand on Yavannie 23, 2001

Another dart hit near the center of the board to the cheers of the mostly drunken crowd. Karnfion called out a forty-five point score and there was much patting of backs and random goosing near the throwing line. The winery's first floor was nearly overflowing with patrons, almost all extremely drunk by this time of night and watching the dart contest with the extra bit of enthusiasm only wine can bring.

As the next throwers took their positions in front of the boards, Thrand leaned back against the wall and looked out the window at the clear, early fall evening...and then suddenly sat up straight and narrowed his eyes. There was a large shape moving through the woods nearby. Perhaps a latecomer to the festival, he thought at first, as he strained to see details in the moonlight. But the dark form stayed in the underbrush, hidden in the shadows at the tree line, and never moved any closer to the winery. Thrand looked back into the room and caught Brisid's eye, which, he noticed, was clear of any effects of the wine and also staring intently out the window. The two nodded at each other, rose from their stools and quickly slipped through the throng of people. Once outside, Thrand quickly strung his bow and Brisid drew his sword. Both mounted quietly on dark steads that appeared seemingly from nothing in the shadows cast by the quarter moon.

"You saw it, too?" Brisid asked.

Thrand simply nodded.

Brisid wheeled his horse around and trotted at a controlled but quick pace to the northwest, leaving the lights and laughter of the winery behind for the dark woods with Thrand about ten yards behind, an arrow already out and his bow at half draw. They rode all the way around Luthrilma, the glittering bay that formed the center of the elven village, to the Silver Arrow tavern on its southern shore.

"Bah...lost the trail," Bri said in disgust.

There was a faint sound of movement and Thrand spun in the saddle, bring his bow up and pulling the string to his ear before he recognized the elven figure gliding through the shadows towards them, a bow in her hand as well.

"Aaye, Myra," Thrand said as he let the tension on the bowstring relax, his eyes leaving her and scanning the woods around them.

They spoke in hushed tones for a few moments of the rider they had seen. They had no doubts it was a dhaeraow, though finding one mounted was still a puzzling experience for them. Dhaeraow temperament didn't seem fit to care for such fragile creatures as horses. Maybe they were learning the ways of the surface, and that thought was a bit frightening for several reasons, but not worth worrying over in the middle of the night with unknown enemies about.

"I'm going to walk the woods a little longer before I go home," Myra told them.

"Be careful, arwen," Thrand called to Myra as she headed away.

"Well, I guess I should get back before they miss me," Brisid said, sheathing his sword. "Whoever it was is gone now."

Thrand nodded, and the two rode back around the shore of the bay to the winery. But the closer they got to the sounds of the festival the more uneasy Thrand felt about abandoning the hunt. As Bri dismounted and went back inside, Thrand turned his horse around and rode back into the woods.

For awhile, he secretly followed Myra, just to be sure she was safe. After a time, he rode up to her and started to speak. Her hands shot up in a strange gesture, and Thrand leaned back in the saddle with a frown. She quickly lowered her arms and whispered, "I heard movement to the southwest."

Thrand looked down on her, feeling slightly puzzled. Myra just stood there quietly, making no further moves and saying nothing. Thrand shook off the strange feeling and rode towards the southwest.

It wasn't long before he found the trail. Dhaeraow weren't good at hiding their own tracks, let alone a horse's. Thrand loosened his broadsword in its scabbard and pulled his bowstring half tight again, guiding his mount with his knees to keep both hands on his bow. The trail led into a thicket in the edge of the woods, a bit east of the Fae tower. Muttering a few words, Thrand momentarily let his bow go slack as he reached into a pouch on his belt for a bit of ash.

Almost instantly a crossbow bolt flew out of the underbrush and passed by Thrand's right ear. Staying calm, he released the spell he'd been concentrating on. A wall of flames sprang up between him and the brush and the dark elf within let out a sudden cry of pain at the light. Thrand quickly shot off an arrow aimed at the sound of the dhaeraow's voice. That effort was rewarded with a grunt and then the sounds of a horse crashing through dense foliage as the dhaeraow broke from cover and fled the light that was blinding him.

Now Thrand could make out a few more details of his quarry. Definitely dhaeraow, long white hair streaming back behind the dark figure as it galloped away. It was dressed in a loose fitting black robe, riding on a dark colored horse and carrying a blackened spear. A crossbow and quiver of bolts were hanging from the saddle.

Kneeing his own mount in the ribs, Thrand followed at a gallop. He slipped his longbow over his shoulder and across his chest, drawing his broadsword as he closed the distance. His pulse quickened both at the thrill of the chase and at the realization that this was a dangerous foe. The dhaeraow wasn't panicked, he was just getting clear of the flames.

When they were well away from the bright wall of fire, the dhaeraow spun around and charged Thrand with spear lowered. Thrand brought his sword around in a wide arc, catching the spear just below the spear point and deflecting the blow as they rode past each other. They both wheeled and made another pass. This time Thrand grabbed at the spear with his left hand and brought the sword down on the dhaeraow's left arm, catching him just below the wrist but glancing off unseen armor beneath the robe.

Again, they wheeled and galloped at each other. Thrand took a swing at the dhaeraow's head, missing him but not quite getting out of the way fast enough. The point of the spear glanced off Thrand's green leather tunic, knocking the wind out of him but not penetrating the magical leathers. He gasped in pain and kept riding, not wheeling about for another charge. He needed time to recover from that hit. The dhaeraow let out a war cry and set spurs into his horse, thinking his enemy was attempting to flee.

They rode along like this for a short while, persuer and persued, until Thrand saw a fire in the distance. He stopped suddenly, brought his horse sideways and swung wildly as the dark elf thundered past, unable to stop as quickly. Kneeing his mount hard, Thrand rushed through the woods and burst out into a small clearing full of smelly humans in dirty clothes. The bandits looked up in shock and started to reach for rusty weapons. They were on their feet and armed when the dhaeraow rode in, swinging wildly at him. He let out a growl of frustration as he was forced to maneuver around them to get at his true prey.

In the woods on the other side of the clearing Thrand stopped. He sheathed his sword, quickly ducked out from under his bow as he brought it around off his shoulder and over his with one hand and drawing an arrow with the other. When the dhaeraow cleared the bandits, he let fly. The shaft struck the dhaeraow in the leg, causing a howl of pain and anger. With swift, graceful movements Thrand ducked his head, slipping the bow back across his shoulder with his left hand as he drew his sword with his right. He was already galloping towards the dhaeraow, who looked up with sudden doubt in his eyes. The sword came down towards his head with blinding speed. He barely got the spear up in time to deflect most of the force, but he felt the numbing shock in his arms. They stayed in one place for a moment, horses bumping into each other and nipping at each other's flanks as Thrand swung again and again at the dhaeraow. At this range, the spear was nearly useless against the sword, and the dhaeraow took several slashes to the body before managing to break free.

Thrand checked the sword's edge for blood to see if he'd managed a cut. There was a little, but not much. Good armor on this fellow, he thought to himself as he took up the chase again. They were riding north, and Thrand knew there wouldn't be much room for maneuver. They soon reached the banks of the Anarduin, the river that flows west to east on the northern boundary of the elven lands. There the dhaeraow did something unexpected. Instead of turning east or west, he just set his spurs to his stead again and forced the horse to leap into the river. His poor horse was nearly exhausted and began slipping downstream. Thrand rode along the south bank, dodging trees and trying to keep his enemy in sight as he sheathed his sword and again readied his bow. He was breathing hard now, both from the blows he'd taken and from the rush of battle. He half expected the dhaeraow to drown, not knowing if they could swim or could deal with the current of a surface river. But that was out of the dhaeraow's hands, now. His horse, near to panic, managed to find footing and crawled out of the river on the north bank. The dhaeraow had dropped his spear while fighting the current, but his crossbow was still fastened to the saddle. He quickly grabbed it and started to load a bolt. Thrand fired his arrow, but hit the dhaeraow's horse in the neck when it moved at the last second, bring forth a horrible cry of pain from the animal. The dhaeraow fired his bolt, but it went wide. Thrand just sat in the saddle, calmly pulling back the string on another arrow. This one impacted the dhaeraow's right arm, making him drop the crossbow.

With a combination of anger and fear, the dhaeraow started cursing his mount, trying to force it to turn. Instead it collapsed under him, exhausted and wounded. If he'd had a weapon, Thrand imagined he would have slain the poor creature in a fit of rage. But he didn't, and he had worse problems as another arrow flew towards him, this one glancing off his shoulder, not a clean enough hit to penetrate his armor. That was the last shot Thrand got as the dark elf stumbled into the brush on the other side of the river.

Slowly, Thrand lowered his bow, letting the string go slack. It was then that he realized how hard he was breathing. The fight had been both frightening and exhilarating, and it took several minutes to calm his heart. He just sat there, slumped in the saddle, listening to the sounds of the forest and watching the stars, he and his horse both resting after the ordeal. Shortly, he patted his mount on the neck, whispered something kind to her, and slipped off the saddle to walk back to the winery deep in thought.

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The Ambush
Posted by a drow sargtlin on Yavannie 27, 2001

It had almost been to easy. Almost...

The three drow met in the tower, preparing in silence. Their leader, a velg'larn drew up the battle plans for the two sargtlinen. It would be a simple and effective ambush.

One last time Drek checked his crossbow--he'd not have another opportunity to do so until the battle was over. Glancing back to the location where the others lay in wait, he began moving through the forest toward the darthiir settlement. Too many damned trees, he scoffed. They made so much noise when the wind blew that it was impossible to hear anything but the loudest beings. But tolerating all the annoyances in this environment would be worth it in just a handful of minutes.

Soon he knelt behind a shrub, just outside their tavern. Their scouts had been so few and far between, it had been almost enjoyable to deceive them into hurrying after fake signals. He knew he didn't have much time though. Somehow, they would detect him, and their plan couldn't handle too large a force. He peered through the last few trees to see the building. Rising up to his feet he swept his crossbow up and fired a bolt through one of the open windows, eliciting screams from within.

He couldn't have asked Lloth for a better reaction. Two darthiiren and a rivvil scrambled out of the tavern. One darthiiren raised her bow and released an arrow that whistled by his ear. He resisted the urge to sign an obscene guesture. They'd be more likely to follow if they thought he was scared. So instead, Drek stomped away from them, being sure to step on every small bush and leaf pile he saw. He didn't want to take the chance he'd lose them, no matter how unlikely. Surely they thought he was simply clumsy in their lands. They would learn otherwise.

He led them on a wavering path, toward the west. They should've planned their ambush closer, Drek mused. The darthiiren wouldn't be so foolish to chase a lone ilythiir so far into the woods again. But it would work this time.

The approach to the site came into view. One of the crude stone structures of the "crypts" stood on the left. On the right was the head of the river that flowed north of their village. Between these two he ran, assuring the prey still followed him. He needn't have bothered, as another arrow thunked into a nearby tree.

From behind the two darthiiren stepped the ilythiiren. The rivvil, who stood farther behind, called out a warning to his friends moments before a dark blade flickered and a spear shot out. One of the fair ones fell while the other stumbled to the ground, a hand clutched to her shoulder--neither attack was a kill. Sloppy, Drek thought as he reloaded his crossbow and targeted one of the darthiiren before the rivvil could cast healing spells on them.

A giant, reddish cat jumped out in front of him, blocking his aim. He fired anyway, scowling as his crossbow bolt disappeared in the massive animal. The poison on the dart seemed to only infuriate the cat further, and it leapt at Drek. He dodged aside, but not far enough, and he felt claws tear into his ringmail armor and across his shoulder. Then a fireball slammed into his back, throwing him into a small tree. He glanced back at the animal and saw it dealing ably with his two companions, who were staggering from claw wounds and burns. This must be the other darthiir's pet. With a quick hand-signal, the three dispersed, leaving the fire-breathing cat to protect the three surface dwellers.

They would regroup at another location later that night. And this battle was far from a loss. For the darthiiren would return to their kind as a terrible message. And that would do for now.

Drek
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Foolish elves...
Posted by a leader of the outcast sargtlin on Narquelie 20, 2001

One of the leaders of the drow sargtlin sat back in the security of the cave now used to house a small force of outcasts. He reflected upon the recent events on the surface.

The drow scouting missions were going as planned. The occasional battles in the forest west of their village were exactly what the drow wanted. That was all part of the plan. Distract the elves to the west and flank them.

The plan worked perfectly. The foolish elves left their Smithy and Bowery virtually unprotected. The raid was a complete success. The outcasts gathered some much needed supplies in their recent raids in Yew and the elven village. More importantly, the number of sargtlin was growing.

"Soon" he spoke to himself . "Soon there will be enough sargtlin and others to really do some damage." But there was more, much more...

In the raid on the bowery, along with the weapons and other supplies was a nice little surprise...

"How, how could they be so foolish?!?" In the raid one of the drow sargtlin had picked up a pack from one of the chests. Inside the pack was an interesting crystal.

Upon further inspection, it was soon discovered that the crystal was used for communication. "It must be used to broadcast messages." "And if there is a way to broadcast messages, there must also be a way to listen in on the elves." "This one crystal just might be worth more than all the supplies gathered in 100 raids!"

The sargtlin thought to himself... "I better have the drow wizard Ka'Narlist research this crystal." "Perhaps he could unlock the secrets to the crystal and use it against the surface elves." "We shall see..." "Let the planning begin!"
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Drow at the smithy
Posted by copper on Narquelie 20, 2001

The meeting in the hall had been exciting. The elves were planning to decorate their homes and give out treats for All Hallows Eve. I skipped back to the smithy to see what I might put together for my costume. The cool night air was slightly foggy casting strange shadows behind the trees. Two nights earlier I had envisioned silvery haired elves peeping through the smithy window. The upcoming festival had my imaginations at its peek. A chill passed down my spine and I shivered. RZ had assured me it was just a shadow.

The smithy was quiet. All the business bussle had gone to wet their Whistle at the Arrow after the meeting. I had planned to join them just as soon as I finished tidying the tools and maybe seeing what I could wear to hand out my treats. My footsteps echoed in the silent shop.

I knelt down to check what was in the big trunk beside the forge. Suddenly a gusts of wind blew over my face and loud voices barked orders.

"Look for the chrystal! We want the Communcation devise! "
"Take all the metal and weapons too!"

I did not recognize the coarse voices! A heavy boot stepped right by my face.I looked up a leg, body..The boot pulled back then thrusted forward kicking me in the nose. Oh! how that hurt. I stood dizzily, blood running down my mouth and chin. I was face to face with a dark looking heru. Smoldering eyes glared into mine. A sinister grin flashed in my direction chilling me to the bone! I ran ! I had to get away!

As I left the smithy I could hear their laughter and rude jokes." No" I thought, "this was Valdolen's place. I worked there! How dare they enter my safe place and cast me out". I took in a deep breath and marched right back in!. Tables had been broken and the chests were all open! Our tools were slewn all over and the anvil had been toppled. Rage burned inside of me. I had never felt such anger. I pointed to the door!

"Get out! GET OUT! This is My smithy!! Out!"

A searing pain pierced into my arm. Blood was dripping from it. Two of the Drow caught me and took turns punching me in the abdomen! I wretched!

I had to get away. Consiousness was coming and going! I prayed that RZ did not show up at the smithy all alone. We needed help. I could not get to the chrystal. One of the bandits was holding it and stuffing it into a bag!. Then everything went black. Just before the darkness took over I remembered Amberyl Askani had been near by. I hoped my assailants had not hurt the young arwen.

As the conciousness took another aware moment I saw the Drow cheering and drinking some of our ale. I creeped to the door . It was ajar. Somehow, Thank the Gods, I made it to the Arrow. Amberyl was there crying for help. She too had seen the attack . I remember her pleading voice saying " Drow all over Copper was hurt". Before the lights went out again I saw my elven heros grab their arms and run through the door.

I awoke to the smell of muffins. A soft quiet voice like a tiny bell tinkled around me. Slowly a comforting hand stroked the bloodied hair from my forehead. This was a voice I knew.
"copper"
"hurt"
A little hug! whisper was helping Amberyl apply bandaged to me. Their care and soothing voices soon brought me back around. My face hurt. My ribs Hurt. My arm hurt! I was afraid!

They filled me in about the raid. The Elves had gone to defend the shop. It looked as though they were winning this battle. whisper suggested I sleep at the Inn instead of the smithy! I smiled though that too hurt. I had lost a lot of blood so I curled up under the counter and slept.

Though my night was filled with terrifying dreams, each time I awoke whisper would soothe and calm me 'til I fell back to sleep.

Two days later I made the trek back to the forge. RZ had been there tidying all the carnage. I looked about. One of our sales people had been killed in the battle. The communication Chrystal gone! Other wise RZ had set the shop straight!

I had failed my people. I had let the Drow steel the very thing they had come for! I was filed with shame! I picked up my Hammer.. A tear rolling down my still swollen cheek... And I started to work!
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Meetings in the Dark
Posted by Myra Sunveil on Narquelie 22, 2001

Myra eyed the entrance to the cave with some trepidation. The note she'd received was short, and to the point. And the rune had brought her here. Taking a breath, she prepared herself and stepped into the darkness of the cave.

"Vendui' Myra Sunveil. Thank you for coming." A voice came to her from the darkness, her eyes still adjusting. She nodded stiffly in the direction of the voice.

"I know that we cannot trust each other but I ask for an exchange of information..." The drow female came forward. Her clothing wasn't quite what Myra'd expected. A mix of tight leather and flowing cloth gave the woman an exotic, alluring look. No weapons were visible.

"That... seems fair enough..." Myra waited, still unsure as to how this drowess knew her.

"I am Saeba Ril, 14th daughter of the House of Maerdyn..."

Myra remembered that much from the letter.

"...but I come on my own. As we say in the Underdark, Ambition leads to ascension."

A small smirk quirked Myra's lips and she took advantage of Saeba's pause. "Yes I remember that, but... For what purpose? And how is it you know who I am?"

"We know that Baal'morda, Lord of the Dead, had 24 disciples." the drowess began, and Myra visibly cringed. This was not a topic she was prepared for. "One of those disciples is the powerful Sorcerer and Scion, Mord'sythe."

Myra coughed, almost as if choking on the air she breathed. This was most definately -not- something she was prepared with which to deal.

Saeba looked on intently. "Do you know of his where abouts?"

Myra took a steadying breath, "I wish I did." She didn't think she should or needed to say more than that. Her reasons were her own.

"Somehow I believe you. We also suspect that Mord'sythe has began exploring the boundary regions between various types of magics, and that perhaps the exact nature of his magic is unique. Just how powerful is Sythe?"

The question struck Myra as odd, having no real talent with the magical arts herself; more from a lack of trying than a lack of abilty. Absently she rubbed at her arms, where she could still almost feel the marks Trenton had placed upon her... what seemed like ages ago.

The drowess watched closely.

Myra searched for the words, her mind flitting here and there. "He is..." She was having trouble concentrating and isolating singular thoughts about Trenton. She always did. "He... uh..." She frowned at herself for stuttering and stumbling so much over such a simplistic topic. "He's no longer a Scion. Ambition leads to ascension. It holds true with Sythe."

Almost as an aside comment, Saeba said, "I was wondering about his power over you..."

Myra just stared at her and pursed her lips together in thought. What had she meant by that...

"You say he is not a Scion... Is Sythe undead?"

Myra almost laughed. If only it were that simple! Then she remembered the riddle-like statement that had been one of the last things Trenton had said to anyone before his disappearance. "Who becomes Master, when the Master is gone?" She couldn't keep the hint of amusement out of her voice.

Saebe smiled viciously. "How can he be stopped?"

Lowering her eyes thoughtfully to the ground, Myra said quietly, "I suppose the same way he destroyed Baal'morda." She decided it was best to keep her eyes on the drowess and looked at her once more.

You seem to have difficulty talking about Sythe. We also know that Mord'sythe, formerly Trenton Sythe, was extensively involved in working dark blood magic on you, Myra Sunveil," Saebe paused long enough to peer at Myra before continuing, "that he cut designs imbued with magical power into your arms, and that he dripped his own blood into these wounds and thereby transformed you into a living filter of abyssal energies.

Myra set her jaw stubbornly. Where had this woman gotten all of this information!? "He did."

"He has also corrupted some of my dark brothers. Can you tell me of the exact nature of their corruption?"

Myra lifted one brow in questioning for just a moment, and then her expression went blank. Quietly, "It... is willing corruption. He can't have those who don't want it." At least, this is what she believed now.

"I see." Saeba seemed to be waiting on more.

So, Myra continued. "I went to him, seeking knowledge. In exchange, he placed the marks on me." There was so much more to it than that... but the shock registered on the drowess' face. Myra didn't wait. "I did not know what they were when he did them. But even after I learned they were not what he told me, I continued to return."

"I may wish to presume innocents with me it is of no matter. In all of this, Myra Sunveil, Mord'sythe working his dark blood magics on you in order to use you as a Scion, the question of your willful complicity remains a mystery. You gave yourself willingly, but can you resist him?"

Again Myra was caught off guard. "He..." She couldn't seem to catch her breath. She felt like she'd been running for miles, and her heart seemed to be what was blocking her air. "He will want nothing more to do with me, I believe."

The drowess looked at Myra's arms. "Hmm."

"I received correspondance from him... Stating when next we met... "all ties would be sundered"" Myra answered the unspoken question of why.

"And you believe him." It wasn't a question, so much as a statement.

"While he may be deceitful... He, in a twisted way, is a man of his word. It is up to the listener to determine what he is really saying." As that explanation was made, Myra realized that she did the same thing.

"He sounds like he would make a good drow." Saeba smirked. "Something has bothered me a great deal about the defeat Baal'morda. Mord'sythe did not come to his lord's assistance? Perhaps the answer lies in his own ambitions."

"He sought freedom from Baal'morda." Myra said simply.

"So he created and used you as a tool only to eliminate Baal'morda. And in effect, Sythe filtered Baal'morda's demonic power and life force through you and into himself, and he grew in power."

Myra nodded slightly. "Yes."

"So when several of the elves in the glade finally joined with you to fight and to defeat Baal'morda, who was obviously a scourge upon your community, it seems suspect that much of Baal'morda's defeat was a result of a plan executed by Sythe where he used you and the others much like a pawns in a game of chess. Do you deny this?"

"No." Her strong point had never been conspiracies, and in truth Myra thought she might be growing confused. But she understood the question.

"I ask you again, can you resist Sythe? Would you willingly destroy him if you could?"

"If I could." Myra knew this was a time when she was using the skill that she had earlier attributed to Trenton. She was leaving it up to the drowess to interprete her words however she would.

"Let us leave the issue of Sythe for a moment. Regarding Khellanduras, we believe him to be an Archlich, formerly Caramon Majere. Is this true?"

"It is." Myra was thankful for the change of topic, even if this one wasn't much better.

"What can you tell me of his power and relationship to Sythe?"

"They are rivals. Each seeks some... godhood."

"How powerful is Khellanduras?"

"He is powerful. But not so much as I believe Sythe to have become."

Saeba Ril nodded. "We believe that Khellanduras has managed to steal or trade enough information about Sythe's magic to drain the life energy from the drow, Euol, and the half-elven child, Rayne Thorne, and to restore his form and some of his power. That which is more, he has managed this without a Scion. Can you tell me of how this is done?"

Myra bit the inside of her lower lip and took a deep breath. "Shortly after Baal'morda's death... Khellenduras came to me in my home. And demanded that I share with him how I drained energies and passed them on to Trenton. He did not threaten my life, but instead, the lives of those closest to me."

Saeba raised an eyebrow in interest.

"So I began studying. A tome came to me. From Trenton. It was delivered to a human woman, Ivy... Who later left to guide Trenton into the Underdark.... But the tome had instructions on the use of normal necromantic magics to drain and transfer life energies. Khellenduras came... and he gained the book from me."

The drow nodded. "You refer to Sythe as Trenton." She looked closely at Myra. "Do you love Sythe?"

All color drained from Myra's cheeks for a moment, as the question slapped her in the face. She stared blankly at the drow female. But she could feel the heat of a blush flushing her cheeks regardless. She was silent while her mind cast about for some repsonse. "That is a ridiculous question." She stated flatly.

"Why so?"

"You ask; do I love the man who separated me from all that I had? Who used me and threw me away?" Myra began to sound defensive.

"We are both women, Myra. Perhaps different women, but still women. I wonder at your reference to Sythe, also I wonder at your true feelings for him, even though you deny any." The drow smiled. "Khellanduras has used you too, has he not? Like Sythe, has he not threatened the lives of those you love?"

Myra did not like what this woman may have been trying to imply. "He has." She decided to keep her answers short and simple.

"What do you plan to do? Will you cooperate and feed him as well, giving him more information, more of Sythe's knowledge?"

Myra was almost offended. "He is done with me. He set a trap of a trick for me, and while I knew it was a trick, I took it. And he cast me away. I am done with that lich, until I see his corpse crumble to dust."

"I see. Perhaps we have more in common than I first thought. You have been helpful and as open with me as you dare. I can, of course, sense and understand your reservations."

Myra smiled slightly. "The worst you can do is kill me, or take me home. And I don't think you are here to do either."

"Do you have any questions of me... I said this was to be an exchange."

"Why did you ask if I could or would destroy Trenton, if given the chance?" Myra was curious.

"Because we plan to destroy him if we can. Tell me. Do you know why we drow are here in your beloved glade?"

"I had my suspicions."

"Do you remember when Sythe disappeared for a time?"

"He travelled to the Underdark."

"Yes he did... so you know of his work there? That he begun to feed upon the drow?"

"I know the woman who led him there. And I suspected he would go where he could find.... a ready supply of power-lusting people to use."

A look of shock registered on Saeba's face. "Who was this woman?"

"She used to be my cousin's housekeeper. Ivy." Myra had been glad to be rid of that vile woman. "She speaks our... er your tongue actually."

"What has become of her"

"She is about... at least she was."

"Did you know that..." the drow hesitated. "We drove him out of the Underdark, along with a group of drow followers I shall refer to as the Outcasts?"

"I suspected he would either come to rule the Underdark, or be driven away, as he was from the Glade. More or less." Myra said plainly. Somehow deep inside, none of this suprised her.

"The elves seem oblivious to the fact that not all as simple as it seems."

"But then... everyone in the Glade was and may still be convinced he's dead." Myra seemed to echo the drow's meaning.

Saeba nodded. "They worry with the drow presence in their glade. But they do not see."

Myra smiled slightly.

Saeba mirrored that smile. "You are amused." Again, it was more a statement than a question.

"Yes." Myra left it at that.

"There is yet depth to your darkness. You seem to know like I do... That darkness is both friend and enemy. The elves have been fighting the Outcasts."

Myra's mind dwelt upon her statement about the darkness. "Lately, more often it is friend."

Saeba nodded. "I long to go back to it but I have things to do. The elves have been fighting the Outcasts. Little do they realize that there are two groups of drow present in the glade."

"And most don't stop to ask, do they?" Myra had once tried to track one drow to speak with it, but it was very good at eluding her.

"This I will tell you...in secret. And as drow say 'Two may keep a secret if one is dead.' Members of my House managed to discover the corruption within their society, and we have driven Mord'sythe and his followers from the Underdark. We believe the Outcasts, who have rejected Lloth, are now followers of Mord'sythe. The Maerdyn drow have come to the surface to kill Mord'sythe and the Outcasts. But you must also understand that in this meeting with you, I am outside the bounds of my House. I am a Jabbress; a mistress with ambition..."

Myra quietly interjected, "And I am not entirely Darthiir." As if that might justify the two of them talking at this moment. Saeba continued on.

"...beyond the choking confines of the Priestess. But I do thank you for you information."

Myra tried to cover the shiver that ran up her spine at the mention of the Priestess, with a slight nod.

"I will leave you with this information to do with as you will." Saeba stepped up to Myra and handed her a ring. "Take this. When you wear it, I will know that you wish to speak with me."

Myra was unsure how to respond and so she simply nodded.

"Be well Myra Sunveil. Aluve." Saeba Ril turned from Myra and began walking away.

Just before she was out of Myra's sight, Myra found her voice again. "You as well Saeba Ril. ...Aluve." What interesting developments these were, Myra thought as she pocketed the ring.
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The Light Of Day
Posted by a familiar face on Narquelie 22, 2001

Someone once said that absence makes the heart grow fonder. So it was with an uncharacteristic measure of sentimentality that the man watched the sun rise slowly over the mountains. His eyes began to squint, reflexively attempting to protect themselves from the overwhelming brightness. But he willed them to remain open — no small task considering recent events.

Every recent memory was one of pure blackness, impenetrably thick and infinitely vast. And here, in the early morning light, the man tasted the first rays of sunlight in what seemed like years. His skin tingled, and his eyes blurred, yet he basked in it. Somewhere deep within, this disciple of darkness had missed the daylight and savored it still, and he hoped that the sphere of fire hovering above would burn away the dark that had shrouded him for so long. Still, he knew, there were places that fire would not reach. That mattered little. What darkness resided there was welcome to stay. But, on the outside, his eyes would revel in the return of colors, both dull and beautiful.

A cool breeze passed him by, reminding him again of things that he had denied himself throughout his journey into the depths. But it had been well worth it. His hair was long and thick, flowing like a red mane. His beard, too, was full and healthy. His flesh and bones felt energized, alive, renewed in a way that he had not felt for a long time. Such nourishment had he found — far more than he anticipated. He had proven himself the rightful heir, surpassing his predecessor in both determination and accomplishment. If things had gone differently, perhaps he would have remained in that ebony depth. But, all things considered, it was time to move on.

If there was one thing he had learned in his many, many years, it was never to tarry in once place for too long.

Besides, there were things here and now that needed tending to. The invaders. The intruder. The skin-stealers. The dae’vanir. The Book of Shadows. There was much to do. And there would be few instances in the upcoming days where he would be able to enjoy the sunlight pouring over the cliffs. There would be little time to remember, as if new, what the wind felt like. There would be few opportunities to experience existence as he once did... as mortals do.

Yes. There was much to do. But they could wait just a few hours longer.
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Unexpected Visit
Posted by Ka'Narlist on Narquelie 27, 2001

Three drow, including myself and two sargltin had been setting up ambushes for elves foolish enough to follow us into the outskirts of The Glade. It was a rather slow night, only three or four elves had fallen. All of a sudden one of my companions froze, he turned around just in time to see the long spear lunge forward and piercing his armor with ease. He fell to the ground quite dead. My second companion turn around and engaged battle with him. I began the incantations of a spell to vanquish this new foe. I had just about finished my chant when an crossbow bolt whizzed through the trees and into my shoulder from another enemy. The second crossbow bolt sliced through the air immediatly after, but instead of striking me, it thudded into into my remaining companions chest with deadly accuracy. I removed the arrow from my shoulder, and casted a minor healing spell to stop the bleeding before I fled the into the thickness of the trees for cover. As I ran I turned and got a good look at one of them, "Drow...," I muttered to myself. I noticed that thier clothing was a dull red, the color of House Maerdyn.

I lost all sense of direction as they continued thier chase. Evenually I saw some lights in the distance. As I got closer I released in was the elves tavern. "This just isn't my day," I groaned. I snuck past the tavern trying to not be noticed, but I didn't get far. I could see water and the distance, wasn't getting away that way. I turned around and ran back towards the two drow from House Maerdyn. Luckily they were confused by my actions and weren't able to fire off any crossbow bolts.

As I reached the tavern again I decided I was tired of running. I stopped near the edge of the forst and prepared some spells of protection. When the two Drow came through I was ready, I launched a volly of spells at the first one I saw. The force of the blasts knocked him back into a tree. He remained there slumped up against the tree. The second Drow however got to me. He let of a combo of several thrusts and slashes with his spear. Fortunately for me, my spells of protection were able to hold off his attacks. I began preparing a fireball to launch at the remaining drow, but as I released it at him to hopped up and pulled something from out from under his piwafwi. I wasn't sure what it was until a crossbow bolt stuck itself into my side. The fireball had only phased the drow for a moment so I took what time I had and fled into the forest.
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A Visit to House Maerdyn
Posted by Myra Sunveil on Narvinye 27, 2002

As the sun set in the west, Myra slipped from shadow to shadow, making her way from Tel'Ruid, toward the Yew Crypts. The shadows of the trees lengthened as time passed, and soon she stood outside the doors of the tower rumored to be the base of operations for some of the Drow.
Without revealing herself to any prying eyes that might be around, she slipped in through the door and worked her way through the entire building. Soon enough she found herself standing on the roof. Here could be found their supply caches. Just as she kneeled to open on of the crates, she heard footsteps downstairs.

Standing up, she turned, folding her arms. She knew the shadows couldn't hide her from one who knew how to look. Sure enough, an armored figure ascended the stairs onto the roof. Catching sight of her, he hissed, "Darthiir..."

Myra replied simply, in his language. "Xas." As they regarded one another in silence, she tapped a finger on her arm, her mind turning gears. She was not in a very safe position.

"What do dos want here?"

Myra shrugged. "Looking around."

This answer obviously didn't please the drow warror, for he stepped toward her aggressively. "ANSWER!"

"I want nothing in particular. Except perhaps for you to lower your bow." Her eyes never left him, though she couldn't see his face, for the helm he wore. She could feel him looking at her rather intensely, nonetheless.

A sound, akin to a chuckle, resounded from deep in his throat. "Xas... I imagine dos would like that.."

Myra shrugged again, with a false, sweet smile. "Simply a matter of courtesy."

"Dos are not in the house of weak darthiir."

Myra nodded. "I am aware of that."

"Vel'bol zhah dos name?"

"Myra Sunveil." It wouldn't benefit her anything to lie. Afterall, he wore the colors of House Maerdyn.

"...Myra.... Sssunveil..."

"Mmhmm."

"The same Sunveil Saeba speaks to?"

Myra regarded him. She wasn't sure how much any member of House Maerdyn knew of her and Saeba's interactions. "That depends on if that will earn me an arrow through my gullet."

"It may.. or save you from one."

"I have spoken with her."

He nodded once, lowering his bow. Then he reached up and removed his helm, shaking out his long white hair. "Do dos come here often, lurking about like a thief, Ssunveil?"

"I haven't been fool enough to come inside until tonight. But I know the area around it well."

"There iss naut here of interest."

"Actually, I saw much of interest a few evenings past."

He grinned. An almost disturbing development, though he seemed quite a bit more at ease with her. "Oh?"

"Indeed. Quite a gathering. I felt left out." A small smirk showed on her lips. It was better sometimes to let someone think you knew more than you really did. And in this case, she figured why not use the information she'd heard... to make him think.

"Hmm... perhaps then we should have dos over for tea and..." he grinned again, "entertainment.."

"But the question would be... would I be the entertainment?"

A laugh passed from his lips as he tilted his head back. "That iss quite possible... Ussa sisters... may naut take so kindly to..intrusions as I.."

"Likely not. Female