Arriving back at Rilauven after the battle for Velkyn-Tirith, Farenth left Flame at the gate, and headed directly to her chambers in Arch-Tinilith^*1. She was a little surprised that no one tried to stop her, as she had already told the Valsharess, GrayFlame, and Phyrra that she would not be staying on at Rilauven. She didn't have a choice about coming back this time though, for there were things she must take care of. Reaching her chambers, she dispelled her personal wards and slipped inside. Closing the door and resetting the wards, she then headed to her desk, which was scattered with pieces of parchment and quills... just as she left it.

She quickly gathered up the parchment into a neat stack, then rolled it up and slid the parchment into an ordinary scroll case.  Next, she wrapped each quill so as not to damage them when packed. Opening the drawers of the desk, she systematically removed and organized all the scratchings and notations she had made on several interesting spells, then rolled them up and slid them into a scroll case she had worked wards on, so that none but her could open it. (A hint: it's never wise to let your enemies have an opportunity to use your own spells against you). Setting the case beside the one holding blank parchment on the desk, she turned to her bookshelves.

Many of the books were ordinary histories of the city, nothing she needed to bring. However, there were, hidden among those histories, arcane spell books, shrouded in a spell of concealment to hide their magical aura. She had acquired these from Jhiieri (though he didn’t know that) when he was tutoring her in his chambers on the fundamentals of the arcane arts. He had left some books un-warded and on his desk while she was there, and she had taken the opportunity to "borrow" them.

They were all spells of the lower levels, ones she could build upon as her skill improved. (She never was sure if it truly was carelessness or if he had intended for her to take them). Without dispelling the shroud, she removed several large books, all of which were bound in a material the color of a seaman's mid-summer tan. Books that if you looked closely, you could see they were bound in human skin, not leather.

Placing the books next to the warded scroll case, she went to a small chest resting next to the bookcase and told it to go to the desk. The chest's eight legs suddenly began twitching, and finally walked over to the desk. As it reached the desk, it stopped, it's eight legs once again resuming the look of ordinary, if numerous, short table legs. Murmuring a dismissal spell and touching the lock on the chest, Farenth pulled a key from one of the many pockets of her robes.

With the mage lock dispelled, she unlocked the material one, and lifted the lid. Inside there were only a few items, and Farenth removed all of them carefully. Once the chest was empty, Farenth picked up the tomes from the desk and stacked them into the bottom of chest. The scroll cases she slid into straps on the inside of the chest lid, tightening the straps to make sure nothing would shift when moved.

There was also a small securable pouch in the lid, and into this she stored her quills and ink well. Then she closed the lid, not locking it, and ordered the chest to follow her. She went into her bedchambers and over to her wardrobe. She folded and packed all the clothes she had that did not bear the colors of Elythanar, setting beside the stack of tomes. Several pairs of breeches and lose fitting shirts could be seen being packed in among the gowns and robes she normally wore. Setting one set of breeches and shirt aside on the bed, she packed her formal wear slippers and placed her jewelry chest atop the tomes.

Turning to the bed, she quickly slipped out of her robes, removing important items from the pockets and setting them nearby. Slipping into the breeches and shirt, snug and form fitted for comfort during long journeys, she quickly bound her hair into one long silver braid, reaching down below her waist. Folding the robes, she set them atop the other clothes. Slipping on a pair of dull worn black leather boots, she laced them up tight, causing them to contour to her slim muscular calves.

Turning toward a dark corner of the room, she headed to the small private altar. Resting on it's surface was a large, exquisitely sculpted silver goblet, set with onyx trimming along the lip of the cup, with rubies and tiger-eyes about the base. Intricate, almost invisible carvings could be seen decorating the goblet with depictions of sacrifice, dancing, and torture.

Lifting the goblet, Farenth took a large piece of blood red silk and wrapped it almost lovingly before turning and placing it among the soft protection of her robes in the chest. Going back out to the main chamber, she carefully repacked the silk wrapped items she had removed from the chest earlier. Having packed everything here that she planned to take with her, she closed the chest, locked the material lock with her key, and reset the mage lock.

"Stay," she told the chest, and walked back into her room... no, not her room anymore, but the bedchamber... and retrieved her piwafwi, donned it, and slipped into its pockets (a slight modification she made to the original design) the items she had removed from her robes. There was her house insignia for Elythanar, which would get her out the gates, ingredients, should she need to work magic if the insignia failed, and a small pouch of money.

Returning to the main room again, she removed the wards on her door, permanently this time, for she would not be returning and there was nothing of value here.

"Follow," she said, and the chest followed her to the door. Turning in the doorway, she dismissed all traces of heat signature using a spell she had learned in one of those precious tomes. Now they would not know when she had left, or where she went.

Walking the halls, she saw no one, for it was the hour of rest, and only the unlucky guards would be about at this hour. Leaving Arch-Tinilith, she walked to the gate near the school that led to a little used back route out of Rilauven. Leaving the chest in a dark alcove nearby, shrouded from detection, Farenth returned to the Tier-Breche^*2, there was one more thing for her to do.

She headed towards Grayflame's office... he possessed something of hers, and she intended to get it back...

Upon reaching his door, she paused and inspected the glyphs upon it.  "Hmmmm..."She said softly. "Not powerful, but certainly numerous."  She began with the detection spells, nulling them first, so that she could work without being detected, she hoped. One by one, she carefully removed each ward, sending a reverent prayer to Lloth that it would work. She was down to the last ward when she heard movement beyond the door. She stepped back and waited.

The door opened slowly, revealing GrayFlame, tired and yawning with rings under his eyes. It was quite an amusing sight, to see this male, who possessed a great deal of dignity, yawning like an old hermit. She was just barely able to keep from laughing. Composing herself, she decided to take advantage of his lack of alertness. She stepped back up to the door and gently opened it the rest of the way, pushing Gray slowly backwards.

"Vendui' GrayFlame. I have come as you asked me too," she said in a sultry voice.

"Huh? Um... I asked you here? At this hour?" he said, his face showing the slowness of his thoughts at the moment.

"Xas, you wanted to give me something, before I leave for my journey. That is what your scroll said. It also said to meet at this time..." Farenth replied. "I believe it was a scroll. A large one. With drawings on it?" She continued softly, suggestively.

Through the haze of his exhaustion, he paused, then nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again. "It is over there, on that shelf," he mumbled, pointing to a large bookcase across the room.

Crossing the room, while keeping an eye on Gray, just incase he was faking, she reached up and retrieved a large ornately carved scroll case. Bringing the case over to Gray's desk, she carefully opened it and withdrew a rolled up piece of the finest parchment. Unrolling it, it revealed a large, detailed work of art made up of four segments. The drawing was divided into quarters, each quarter showing a depiction of Farenth summoning each of the four elements. Hidden among her robes were the different glyphs for each element, as well as each sphere of influence. (Only a mage would be able to tell which was which, as they were drawn without indication to their functions. To a non-mage they would only be meaningless scribbles).

With a feral smile, Farenth rolled it back up and replaced it carefully into the ornate scroll case. Looking up, she nodded towards Gray, "Bel'la dos Ul'Saruk". With that, she straightened up and glided swiftly and silently out the door, leaving GrayFlame standing there looking more than a little confused.

Striding swiftly through the halls, she exited the building once again, and made her way to the gate. She didn't even concern herself with the jade spiders standing guard, for she was not an enemy entering the city, just a priestess leaving it. Locating the chest, she ordered it to follow her again as she mounted up onto Flame and headed off down the dark tunnels leading to the surface.  Muffled by magic, Flame's hooves made no noise as they headed back towards Velkyn-Tirith...

All he saw was the flash of light. Light so intense that his eyes felt like several hundred tiny needles, all at once, had just pierced them. Probing through into his brain. Only once had he felt such pain in his life. The beatings he had taken for some indiscretion towards the yathrinen and his Ilhar didn't even compare to the pain he felt when he saw the dawn of the surface once many years past. The pain the flash caused matched that dawn's pain in intensity.

He never even felt himself being picked up from his feet by the subsequent shockwave and thrown back several feet to smash onto the massive courtyard gates. He had slipped into unconsciousness long before his bone-crunching impact. The last thought that went through his mind before he started his long descent into the abyss was of the two people he "cared" for the most. One gone from him for what might be forever and the other, one who he couldn't remain angry at no matter what she had done to him in the past. With those two faces flashing through his mind, Tull surrendered to the pull that he knew no one could resist forever.

* * * Flash * * *

*If not Rilauven, then where am I? This is not Ched Nasad, nor Menzoberranzan. I have been there and seen those places, and this place is older than those two,* his curiosity was getting the better of him now.

Always the curious cat, he started walking about and exploring the grand expanse of the city. Looking up, he didn't even see the ceiling of the cavern. All he could see was the twinkling of quartz and other gemstones that dotted the cavern ceiling. Twinkling the reflection of all the faerie fires that illuminated the cavern-city. Everywhere he looked there was something that awed him with its beauty and magnificence. Even the Queen’s palace in Rilauven didn't match in greatness some of the lesser buildings of this familiar, yet unknown city. And he did know this city; it was just on the tip of his tongue. But he couldn't seem to get the name out. As if it wasn't time for him to say it out loud, just yet. 

There were many things he wanted to say about the place, but he was unable to speak. And it suddenly dawned on him that it wasn't just a figure of speech. He was unable to speak or make a sound. He tried to open his mouth, and open it did, but as he tried to make a sound, nothing happened. Only silence. *What is wrong with me?* He thought, worry growing in his mind. With his silence a worry, he still continued his walk around the faerie fire-illuminated city. His hearing was all right. He could hear his footsteps echo down the fairway.

As he continued to walk down the street, he saw no one. He hadn't seen a drow, or any of the many races that served as slaves to his people. This too was starting to worry him. Even during graduation ceremony for the students of Tier Breche when everyone who was of importance was suppose to attend; the city itself was never empty of activity. The roads and streets still needed to be cleaned and maintained by the slaves, the markets opened so goods never stopped flowing into the city and the many houses. The patrols still needed to be kept. House guards were still rotated to keep the individual houses secured.

He saw not a living soul where he had walked so far, but onward he continued. Soon he reached what looked like two giant obsidian statues that depicted the female and male drow in its most perfect form. Gleaming with a purplish tint on its smooth, black surface, the two life-like statues towered several meters tall. Three times taller than the largest titan he had ever seen in his life. Both statues stood next to an impressive-sized gate of pure adamantium. Etched magically onto the surface of these monstrous gates were the drow runes for the words hidden and tower. 

*Hidden? Tower? Wait, I know where I am now!* The name finally clicked into his mind...

* * * Flash * * *

* * *Fire* * * 

Fire and heat raged all around him. He had to switch from the usual infra-vision that he used for seeing in the Underdark to normal vision. There was ample enough light to be had with every structure in the city seeming to be on fire. He could hear the crackling of perishables within and outside the buildings. He didn't know how he got here and why he was even here, but he knew that staying any longer would mean becoming fuel to the firestorm that the city was being consumed in.

KABBOOMM!!

Somewhere close by, one of the buildings on fire exploded violently. He staggered in his flight, not because of the fiery explosion itself but for the sudden release of magical energies caused by the many magical items that must've been stored in that structure. Feeling blood run from his nose, he got himself upright once more and ran for safety, wherever it may be in this mass conflagration. Another explosion, this time a little farther away, sent towards him a shockwave of raw magical energy. Drawing more blood to run out of his nose. 

He really had to get out of this hell-storm. With every magical overload explosion, his physical health deteriorated. Now blood was flowing from both his nose and ears. Fortunately for him, he was still wearing his amulet of healing. But its healing properties were still too slow to curtail the flow of blood. It seemed that every other step he took another building exploded, causing him more and more physical harm. He really doubted if his amulet would be able to keep him conscious enough to get to safety. But get to one he knew he must. 

BOOM!!

Out of nowhere, the building he had been running parallel to suddenly burst into flame like the rest before it. He felt himself, all of a sudden, thrown sideways towards one of the city's house gates. He only had a moment to notice the sharpened spikes that protruded from its smooth surface. Points directed towards his hurtling figure. He would've screamed if he were able to utter a sound. All he could do was stare with horror-filled eyes as the points began to get closer and closer and closer until...

...Flash...

Silence. Absolute silence surrounded him as he walked amongst the old ruins of the city, his footsteps echoing loudly even as his breathing sounded much louder in his ears. He looked himself over, looking for any wounds that he knew he should've received. But to his amazement, he was whole. Nothing punctured through his body. Touching his face and head he also realized that there was no blood on him anymore. His nose was blood-free, also his ears. He offered a prayer to Lolth... Lolth? 

Yes. She was the deity he worshipped. He shook his head. Now he was starting to forget... 

*Who am I?* He thought apprehensively.

As he searched his memories for a name he'd recognize, his eyes took in the old ruins of the city. All the fires were gone, and so were most of the buildings. To his eyes it would seem that it had been a while ago since the end of the city. The rubble looked very old indeed. As if several hundred years had already passed since the firestorm and the cataclysm that had destroyed the city. The only visible structure he could see fully intact were the giant spires he had first seen when he walked the city's streets. The massive gates still stood fast, but gone were those exquisite giant drow statues that seemed to guard the entrance to the gate. 

As if by some unknown force, he was suddenly walking towards the largest spire, towards the massive gates. He didn't know why, but he just felt like there was something there that waited for him. His curiosity always getting the better of him, he decided to move on. When he finally got through the gap between the gates, he saw that another smaller, but still large gate awaited him. But this time as he got closer and closer he heard a voice in his mind. A voice he knew well. A voice that brought back to him all he was starting to forget.

*Welcome, my young friend. Glad for you to have stopped by. I am sure we will get along just fine,* a dry, malicious laugh echoed in his mind...

He heard a cry in the dark...

Tullarix suddenly bolted upright, sweat rolling down his face and upper body. The sheets were slick with it. His breath came in ragged gasps, as if he had been running from something. He remembered the battle and the explosions caused by Shado’s meteor storm spell.  He vaguely remembered healing warmth, feminine voices, and being gently carried somewhere.  All of those memories were vague and fragmented... Unlike the visions he had just... experienced?

It took him a moment to get his bearings, but he now knew that he was safe. Probably in one of the cleared out chambers of largest building. A single candle cast deep dancing shadows on the walls about him. Fear still evident in his eyes and his heart only just now slowing to a regular beat, Tull just sat there and watched as one of the shadows separated from the others. It moved closer, finally revealing the familiar form of Tilfahr, the slave who had replaced his Desinari.

"Are you ok, my master?" Tilfahr asked meekly, eyes lowered, but full of concern for him.

"Xas. I think so... yes I am fine, Tilfahr. Just a dream. Just a bad dream," but he was beginning to doubt if that was true at all...

*1.  The clerical branch of a young drow's training. The females go through exhaustive studies here.
*2.  The Tier Breche is actually made up of three academies. Clerical, magical, and military: Arach-Tinilith, Sorcere, and Melee Magthere.