Scooping the coins back into the pouch she froze as she heard a twig snap nearby. She was certain none would find her in her hiding place, so she held very still and waited. Soon enough, she saw the elf passing by. Obviously not expecting a drow to be waiting in ambush, the elfmaid's bow was unstrung, and her sword remained sheathed. She had not apparent wealth about her, which gave Vierna cause for pause. But looking again, Vierna took note of the well-adorned hilt of the blade on the elfmaid's belt.

The female was small, in fact, she looked somewhat starved. That fact struck the drowess as somewhat odd, so near the elven settlement, but she shrugged it off as she readied herself to spring out upon the elfmaid. Without so much as a sound, Vierna sprung forth. Just a split second before her weapon found its spot, Vierna balked. She recognized this darthiir! It was the one with which she'd seen the elder boy, Drax'l speak.

In the pause her hesitation brought, the elfmaid had whirled around. Her sword was in her hand before she had turned to fully face the drowess. The two females squared off. Vierna's crimson eyes locked onto the jade gaze of the darthiir, flickering only a moment to the bone-white blade in elf's hand. In a flurry of motion most others would not be able to follow the two went at one another.

"Lloth plynn dos!!!" Vierna hissed as the elf seemingly melted into a shadow, dodging a blow. The drowess began to panic, having lost sight of her opponent.

"Nau. Jhal dos orn tlu denied Lloth's elamshinae." Came the calm reply from behind Vierna, giving her just enough time to react to the sword that came whistling toward her throat.

The two went back and forth, their fighting styles disturbingly similar. As Vierna began to take note of the fighting style that the elfmaid was using - Jivvin Golhyrr, one of the more cruel fighting styles that humiliated one's opponent before killing them - the elfmaid crouched and shot out a foot, tripping the drowess. Hitting the ground, the wind was knocked out of Vierna and she knew this was her end.

The darthiir stood over her. In this moment, her eyes more fully took in the details of the blade that was about to end her life. Bone-white, and carved. It was not metal. And strange runes glistened along the blade. Despite the wounds it hand inflicted upon the drowess, it was oddly free of any blood. The only red came from the disturbing runes that looked like slick blood themselves. A flash of realization came to the drowess as the elfmaid thrust the blade into her chest and she felt her life disappearing into less than oblivion, devoured. But she would not get a chance to sell what she'd just learned to House Maerdyn, or anyone else.