Fatigue began to seep into Drathsin as he navigated the tunnels. His wounds were tiring him out more then he had thought. He was about to turn back to the VDVM^*1 when he came around a corner that opened up into a vast cavern. Standing in amazement he looked upon the bustling activity of many drow and their servants hard at work in rebuilding what looked to be the ruins of a large city. This must then be the city of Velkyn-Tirith, a city he had heard little of. With mixed emotions he was not sure of what his next actions should be. He knew he would never make it back to his room in his present condition. He had heard that a friend of his had come to this city as a Qu'el'faeruk. His mind made up he entered the city and set out to find his friend. 

He walked the streets moving through the shadows, when he came upon a patrol. Stepping out of the shadows he approached them. This was a gamble, for he was a stranger to the city. Even though he was also a drow, it was always dangerous to traverse the streets. Looking over the patrol he picked out the captain, 

“Vendui' Captain. I look for one named Shadosin, I have a message for him.” 

The captain looked Drathsin over, his patrol moving to form a half circle around him. Tensing, he knew what was to come, “This message is of importance it is from the Ul'Jabbuk^*2 Zaknefeinn.” With that, the captain tensed some then relaxed again. The use of the Ul'Jabbuk's name would help him find Shadosin. 

The Captain talked to one of his men then spoke, “You shall come with me to the Ilharess, she will decide what to do with you.” Drath’s heart sank not knowing what to expect now. 

As he was ushered into the throne room he looked about taking in the many guards. Then his gaze fell upon the throne. Drathsin covered his surprise when he recognized the Matron seated so casually upon the regal seat. A smile crossed his face as he saw Mavralyn. She was as beautiful as he remembered when he last saw her. She now had a stronger aura of power about her and his smile grew. Bowing to her he continued to smile for he now felt hope that he would get back to his studies with her help... “Vendui' Malla Ilharess.”

Darkness is no stranger in the tunnels of the Underdark. This darkness combined with the massive weight of the earth overhead can overwhelm and defeat the most fearsome human warriors, but to the drow it is home. Home conjures memories of safety and security. Safe and secure in this world for any of the inhabitants is a tenuous and temporary occurrence. 

Surviving for a drow requires a constant alertness and to survive alone in the darkness, a lone drow requires never ending vigilance, patience, and luck. It was this environment that DosHawk, for the last ten years, had thrived in; making his home here and there among a series of "safe" areas. These areas were not really safe. Rather, they were areas well known to him and allowed him a chance to relax somewhat. A luxury rarely sought except after an extremely tough battle or close call. 

Now, as he looked down to the cavern floor below, he shook his head and silently cursed his bad luck. A bevy of activity revealed the presence of a group in one of his "safe" areas. He pulled back instinctively from his perch in the small tunnel opening near the cavern roof, conscious of the heat patterns and not wishing to be discovered. The activity below had suggested a large group. Too many to fight alone and the other inhabitants of the cavern seemed to already have been subdued. His short observation told him this group was settling in, making improvements, building defenses. He would have to move on. 

This was not the first time one of his safe areas had been appropriated and he was sure it would not be the last. Well another area was only a few days away, but before he left a little closer look was needed. There could be an opportunity here and DosHawk never passed those by. He could easily move in closer. Maybe he could make these intruders pay a bit for their appropriation. At the least, the information of these new neighbors would be invaluable in the future. 

He peered over the edge to the floor below first. Then DosHawk began his decent to the cavern floor. The tunnel opening he came from was obscured from the floor (he had found it entirely by accident) and the route a familiar one. It would allow him to draw close without being observed. Once in position what he saw rocked his neat little world, bringing to life his memories. The intruders were drow! His hand closed around the pouch at his neck, the last remnants of his first 12 years of life.

The brief sparkle in Dizenel’s eyes was all that exposed her hiding place. Secure behind the two gray boulders, she waited patiently for a drow to come along. Particularly one baring the sign of the City of Velkyn-Tirith. Diz was waiting on the outer limits of the surface city of LongSaddle as she knew that Velkyn-Tirith was below LongSaddle... somewhere. However, she knew that it was not the best idea to simply walk about the Underdark. If you were lucky, or, depending on your point of view, unlucky enough to find a drow city, it was not wise to just enter and announce that you planned to join its hierarchy. No, she planned to wait and hope that when she did find a drow of Velkyn-Tirith he or she would help her to meet the Ilharess of his or her house, and perhaps she would find suitable station there. 

Her thoughts began to drift back, as they had many a time, to the way she was first separated from her home. She had been three years younger then than she was now, and in training. It was her second visit to the surface on a raiding party. For the most part the raid went well. Many humans were killed, two by Dizenel, but the way back home was where the trouble occurred. The relatively small party was attacked by a large group of assorted monsters. All Dizenel could remember of the fight was the confusion. The party was slowly scattered or killed. Still not far along enough in her training she ended up wandering far from the group’s original destination, in a combination of a furious and bloodthirsty revenge, and a need for survival. Although Dizenel had discovered, after time, that she was able to survive in this way, she also realized she had to back down from more fights than she could create. She had ended up on her own before her training was anywhere near complete. She knew, eventually, she would find herself in a situation she didn't know how to handle. 

So the decision to come and find her way back into the society that she should have been in all those years was easily reached. Slowly she became reoriented with the area where the party had broken up. Somewhere near by she found several groups of drow, but the one that interested her the most was Velkyn-Tirith. For some reason it reminded her mostly of her old home. As far as she could tell, her own group had been completely destroyed. She lived for three years on instinct and had no intention of stopping now. If there was something about Velkyn-Tirith that told her that's where to go, that's where she would go. 

She sighed, growing impatient of waiting. She had seen many elves, humans, dwarves, and halflings, but no drow. There was no real need to be hiding behind the boulders except that at the moment she did not feel the need for confrontation. 

She became aware of the sound of approaching steps. She tensed waiting to see who belonged to the sound. The walker appeared slowly, cautiously, evidently aware that something was waiting and watching. The walker came fully into view. Dizenel's dark heart leaped as a Matron of Velkyn-Tirith appeared. Better than she had hoped for! Dizenel stepped out from behind the boulders slowly so as not to initiate attack. She curtsied formally. 

"Vendui' Malla Ilharess." 

"Vendui'," the Matron replied. "I do not recognize you... state your name." 

"Asanque, Malla Ilharess. I am Dizenel, and at the moment have no other title than that. The city to which I used to belong has long since been destroyed, and I come to you in hopes of joining your house." 

The older female made no answer, instead she studied Dizenel. Diz thought of how she must look to the Matron. She stood tall and lithe, with grace inborn, her wavy hair high piled and crossed with gold bands. Her ebony skin was smooth and soft with youth, and she wore a flowing dark gray robe of fine silk. Her eyes, which when angered, could glow a fiery red, were now a dull maroon, and lowered to the ground. Dizenel began to wonder if her lack of experience was obvious enough to influence the Matron's decision. 

"I am Ilharess Mavralyn, Matron of House Xol'Niaren." The Ilharess grinned and continued, "You are not very experienced, are you?" 

Dizenel was taken off guard for a moment, but then also smiled, remembering that some Matrons possed the ability to decipher most of your thoughts. *Yes, it definitely has been three years since I had any contact...,* she thought. 

"No, Malla Ilharess," Diz responded at last," I was in preliminary training when I was separated." 

Mavralyn considered this for a moment and then said, "Well, then you must be taught. You will come with me to Velkyn-Tirith and become a student at the Tier-Breche, and complete your training." 

"Thank-you, honored Matron." Dizenel replied and followed the older drowess back to Velkyn-Tirith and a new life.

Farenth sat in her chambers, pondering. She knew she needed to do something... something new. She had dismissed the slave that had been attending her, not needing the cowering thing when there was nothing for it to do. Her grimoire rested on the table beside the chair she lounged in. She glanced at it, and frowned. *I need to experiment... Yes, I will go try one of my new spells.* Deciding, she picked up the book and began flipping through it, looking for the spell she had in mind. Finding it, she took note of all the components she would need. 

Moving to a small cabinet, she dispelled the magical wards and undid the mundane lock with a small key she pulled from her cloak. Picking up a medium sized leather pouch, lined with silk, she pulled the components necessary for the spell from the shelves and placed them in the pouch. Setting the pouch on top of her grimoire, she reset the mage locks on the cabinet and locked the mundane lock, slipping the key back into one of the hidden pockets of her cloak. 

*Yes, this magic spell will be perfect,* she thought as she turned from the cabinet. *I need someone that I can trust. One that will not try to use me for their own goals.* She frowned as she made an admission to herself. *Yes, I need a friend.* 

She set the wards on her room as she went into her bedchamber. Setting her cloak over the back of a chair, she quickly removed her formal robes, which she had needed for the morning's audience that the Matron had held. Walking over to her wardrobe, she paused by the mirror, admiring her sleek figure before opening the closet door, removing black riding breeches and a blood red silk blouse. Slipping quickly into them, she then pulled out a black leather vest, form fitted, which she laced on over the blouse. Sitting on the chair, she deftly tightened the lacings running up the outside of her breeches. She then slipped on strong black boots with soft soles to augment her natural ability to move quietly. Standing, she replaced her piwafwi about her shoulders, pulling out the gold house insignia and attaching it to her vest. Quickly, she pulled out her small travel grimoire, and copied the spell carefully into it from her main grimoire. 

Slipping the small tome into her satchel with the pouch of components, she slung it over her shoulder, and slipped the larger grimoire into its place on the shelf and cast an illusion spell on the book case, rendering it impossible to tell which books were magical and which were not. She dismissed the wards on her door as she quickly adjusted the cloak about her shoulders. Pulling the hood up to hide her from sight, she left the room, resetting the wards before heading down the hall to the gates. 

Stopping by the stables, she retrieved her mount, Flame. She saddled the creature and mounted up, then continued on to the gates. Reaching the gates, she paused to admire the jade spiders standing guard, but quickly continued on, unconcerned about them with her insignia displayed openly. After passing the gates, she removed the insignia and slipped it into her cloak. She took the path through the market, stopping at one of the more reputable stores to purchase some incense, storing it in a pouch on her belt. Continuing on, she reached the edge of the city, she glanced at Narbondel, took note that it was deep night on the surface, and took the tunnel leading to the town of LongSaddle... . 

Reaching an off shooting tunnel, she turned Flame down it, following to a small secluded cavern she remembered from her first journey through this maze of tunnels surrounding the city. Reaching the small cavern, she dismounted and led Flame to a small alcove near by. "Guard," she commanded, and left the mount, heading towards the back of the cavern. Pulling out her grimoire, she looked over the words of the spell once more, storing them to memory. Closing the book and setting it aside, she sat down cross legged and cast a few wards to warn her of anything that approached. With the wards set, she began her magical summons... 

A few moments later one of her wards went off, giving her a silent warning of something approaching. Waiting, she watched as a dire wolf came trotting around the corner into the small cavern. It came up to her and sat down, waiting for a command. Smiling at her luck, she cast Friendship on the wolf, and waited again... 

It cocked its head to one side, and then came closer to her, touching its muzzle to one of her hands, sniffing her. Slowly, Farenth raised her hand, and laid it gently on the beasts head. *Now he will make a wonderful companion,* she thought and projected feelings of trust and friendship at the be-spelled beast. She had to be sincere if this was to work, but she found that it was not as hard as she had thought it might be to mean the feelings she sent towards the beast. It must have been those strange years of her early life that made the need for trust and companionship possible for her. 

*I must be sure he stays close now, lest the spell fail to reach permanence and he turns on me,* she reminded herself. Rising slowly to her feet, she walked towards the entrance to the cavern, excitement flooding through her veins as the wolf got up to follow her. Retrieving Flame from where she had left him, she looked again at the wolf, seeing the huge fangs that protruded from his jaws. *I shall call him Streea (Suicide), for that is what it will be to all who purposely cross his path,* she thought. Remembering she should keep Streea as close to her as possible, she replaced her things into the saddle bags attached to Flame's saddle and began to lead them both back to the city...

I closed my eyes and released a deep sigh. The cool marble felt good on the back of my neck as I rested my head on the smooth edge of the oversized tub. Better, still, was the penetrating warmth of the steaming water as it loosened the muscles and nerves of my submerged body. Best of all, I thought with an inward smirk, was the somewhat released, somewhat weakened feeling of one that had just spent all their energy. I slipped easily into past memory as I relaxed. Perhaps not where it all started, but a beginning to how I got here anyway...

Neverwinter was not a welcome sight, but it was good to be back. Here I would blend in better. Never could one stop looking over their shoulder, but this torrid cesspool of race and religion would allow me to kill fewer. Neverwinter offered tolerance, and I accepted. It would be a nice change. 

The city pulsated with new faces, festered one might say. I had spent almost half of my years on the surface now, away from Rilauven and this way point. Using the second skill ever taught to me, I walked unnoticed through the main square and slipped into Mataga's. Surveying the room, I gave indiscreet attention to two robed females sitting among their escorts. 

One, wrapped in purple and red, I recognized immediately as the Dark Matron, Jasra Dark, Matron of House Rilynt'tar. The other, clad also in the robes of a Matron, looked as one I knew, but my mind produced no name. Slowing my strides, I turned trained ear to their conversation. Three strides later Jasra spoke the second Matron’s name, and I suppressed a chuckle-- this being the first skill, and most useful skill I learned... Mavralyn... 

She was a fiery Yathrin when I last saw her. Now an Ilharess. Two more timed strides revealed her House: Elythanar. It looked as though I might live. Kneeling a respectful distance away, I bowed, placing my face as close to the ground as possible. Although I would not call this a skill, it was indirectly taught to me by a Drowess prone to fits of kicking. 

Speaking to my first Drowess in... how long had it been? Decades maybe... 

"Vendui', Malla' Ilharess d'Rilynt'tar." I paused, then continued, "Vendui', Malla' Ilharess d'Elythanar." I could feel the subtle breeze caused by their robes as they moved slightly to gain better perspective of this kneeling male. 

"Vendui' shebali," they spoke, although not quite in unison. Shebali. I had not heard that 'title' in quite some time. It looked as though I had come full circle. My uniform was worn to a dark blue bearing no insignia. It being my lone possession remaining from my years underground, I am sure I offered no better clue than a houseless rogue. I could hear two of the escorts begin flanking me on either side. For two reasons, I did not look up. 

First, and more importantly, neither Ilharess had bade me to rise. It would be foolish to die at this point. Secondly, the escorts were undoubtedly feeling 'the upper hand' as they silently maneuvered through deep shadows-- why spoil it for them? 

"What is your name, shebali, and what is your business here?" the younger priestess spoke. 

"Venom D'Veil, Malla' Ilharess, and my business here... I merely came to Mataga's for a drink... and to pay an overdue tab." Sometimes the safest answers are those that no one is prepared to reply to. 

For if I had divulged what I had been... no, I should tell the story as it did happen, and not as it could have. The Matrons, seeing me as no threat, soon lost interest and went back to discussing whatever it is that Matrons discuss. Showing due respect, I waited until they departed to order my drink. Kneeling a farewell to each, I felt that I had left a conspicuously subtle image. I was definitely out of practice, and that might well cash me in, before I had a chance to pay...

I could feel Mavralyn shift in the water next to me, breaking my trancelike state of reverie. Ripples of current ran over my legs and torso as she moved to get her legs underneath her and then stood, freeing herself of the hypnotic embrace of the heated pool. 

Seeing that her movement elicited no reaction, she placed a hand upon my shoulder and firmly pushed off as she stepped out of the bath and, once again, into the cold, waterless world. As her familiar touch disappeared I forced my eyes open and mustered enough strength to turn my head slightly in her direction. I caught a fading frown, no doubt from the fact that she was unable to force me underwater. The water felt great, but I was not going to go down that easily. Mavralyn, on the other hand I mused, had earlier shown an extraordinary ability at holding her breath. 

Catching me 'looking' brought the sultry side of her out. She took a step away from me and then, ignoring the slave about to wrap her in a towel, bent waaaaaaaay over and grabbed off the floor, the one that was meant for me. Before she straightened she looked back, between her ankles, at me still in the tub. I suddenly felt... well... that's a no-brainer... 

Gathering her tangled tresses with her left hand she pulled them back from her face as she rose and turned back in my direction, holding the towel menacingly in her right (whipping) hand. I fought valiantly to remove the broadening grin from my lips, but there was just no way. I thought of puppy dogs... my mom... nothing worked. The image of an Ilharess "popping" me with a towel kept overriding all else. 

It was not to be, though. She simply stopped at the edge and tossed the towel into the pool. Nice. As I watched the towel drown, while it dutifully attempted to soak up all the water in the basin, I realized that I was not only going to have get out, I was going to have to find another means of drying myself. My clothes were in the outer room. 

As I began to stand, thoughts of sending the slave for another drying cloth disappeared as I noticed that Mavralyn had that one occupied in dressing her. Grumbling quietly, I lowered back into the shallow warmth. Within moments she had donned a black, revealing robe-sort-of-thing. The kind of thing that usually was worn for about 5 minutes before unceremoniously becoming something that got tangled amongst your feet at the foot of the bed. 

I was a bit disappointed to see her cover up, but not as disappointed as I was when I saw my towel hit the water. As she briskly walked past me toward the noticeable exit of the bathing chamber she flashed me one of those "oh-yes... are-you-still-here?" looks. I took that as my cue that it was time to head back to the stables. After watching her disappear through the wide doorway I looked one last time to the towel now decorating the bottom of the tub. There was a lesson to be learned in all of this, surely. Hmmm... what was it? 

The click of the double doors shutting brought my wandering thoughts back to focus. Looking around I saw that I was alone... and still wet. Nice.

*1.  VDVM is short for "Valsharessen Drow Vel'Xundussa Magthere" which loosly translates as "Royal Drow Security Institute."
*2.  Ul'Jabbuk is the title for the VDVM Master, or "Warlord".