Venorik came out of the portal, stumbling over himself, only being able to accurately move because of Qee'lakstreea. Blood drips freely from all down his back, falling upon the ground in puddles. His blades now lacked the energy to take them through the planes, back to the abyss where they could heal and regain their strength. He silentlly cursed himself for jumping the gun, for so easily running into a battle without the needed information or plans.
He continued in an awkward jog, more of a hop, towards the building that served as the dread army headquarters. His vision was getting blurry, objects around him were swirling. His movements were now tilting. Not now, he told himself. He had finally found the power he came for. He was now the commander of the dread army. Could he truly fall but a step away from the throne? Everything went black around him, yet he could still feel himself moving, only differently.....
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Balkin exited the portal behind Venorik, standing, fiddling with his various organs as he watched the new commander use up the last bits of his life trying to get to his new seat of power. Power much deserved, he thinks to himself, for he was amazed at the prowess of this one. He knows now, after fighting beside him against unbelievable odds, that he had sadly underestimated Venorik. He knew now why they called this one the destroyer. He knew now how his family was so easily disposed of.
He rubs an organ against his crushed leg, smashing the fleshy blob, it's juices spreading down his injured knee and the other parts of the appendage. He felt the immense pain as everything shifted back into place, he heard the cracking and reforming of bones. He grimaced in pain, even screamed out, but the spell of silence was still upon him and it could not be heard. He rubbed the same thing on his torso, on the deep cuts that ran across his stomach. It was not nearly as painful, for it was only skin and a small amount of muscle reforming,but it still sent waves of pain through him.
He smiles as Venorik falls to the ground steps away from the door of the building. It was such a shame. He walks toward the dying drow, blood pooling about him. His hands trembled as they wrapped around his swords. It was finally over. They destroyer was finally at bay. He laughed as his blade cut through the air, aimed for the head of his most true enemy.
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Qee'lakstreea felt it. He was in true dispair when he felt Venorik's soul leave the body they had basically shared for the better part of eight hundred years. The body was now empty, and though Venorik had allowed him to do it before, he had never truly controlled the body alone. It felt..different, but his senses were still active. Active enough to intercept the blade headed for his head. The look upon the attacking drow's face was nothing short of priceless as Qee'lakstreea's other hand swept across,connecting with a few instantly cracked ribs, knocking Balkin five feet away.
" That was a mistake." came the gutteral, demonic voice of the Balor, Qee'lkstreea, spoken for the first time in over eight hundred years, since he had been soulbonded with Venorik inside the words, the casing of his very essence. He trudged forward after his new enemy, smile curling upon his lips.
The portal closed behind the drow as Kerath jogged out into the dark mage village. Although slightly injured, he showed no signs of fatigue or pain. If it were not for the blood dripping from his forearms and the still forming bruise along the right side of his fourhead, it would look from his movements and demeanor as if he were merely slightly late for an appointment. He stopped moving though as he saw Venorik, badly injured, fall to the ground, another drow walking toward his prone form. Then the mysterious drow, a darkweaver by his clothing, raised his sword and swung at Venorik's head. Kerath's shock doubled when, from out of nowhere, Venorik blocked the dark weaver's blade and, with strength impossible for someone so grievously injured, punched him in the gut. Kerath watched in surprize as the dark weaver flew back some five or six feet, and understood what happened when Venorik spoke...
Not the flowing, melodic voice of a drow elf, but the gutteral growl of a demon.
Kerath looked from one to the other, wondering what to do next.
" YOU MEANT TO KILL HIM LIKE THE OTHERS!" Qee'lakstreea growls, stomping toward Balkin. Violent flames licked out from his eyes, his hands became clawed, and small horns now protruded from his forehead, the body trying to accomodate the new soul within it. He grabs the still laying Balkin by the shoulder, hoisting his form up in the air so their faces met. " but he is already dead." he gowls, sorrow in his voice. He twirls, throwing Balkin across the distance to fly into the wall of a building with a loud thud. Balkin slides to the ground and semi-conciously fumbles through his pocket, his hand finding the small orb he had stolen from a surface dweller. It felt so right in his posession. He didn't even notice the fist of a seemingly posessed Venorik coming towards him. Then it stopped in mid air,hitting a small wall of glowing color. Balkin held a bewildered expression upon his face, as Qee'lakstreea would have, if he could remember how to work facial expressions.
A small line of energy also went at the form of Venorik...from the small orb. It took him back a step, but he easily shrugged it off. He was, after all, a tanar'ri, and Balor at that. "I saved you back at the castle. I brought you here and spared your life!" Qee'lakstreea roars again, his hand going past the sheild and lifting the dark weaver once more." yet you try to kill him!" Qee'lakstreea was truly in anguish, for he knew how much this had all meant to Venorik. It was why he had left his home, along with Kerath. Over eight hundred years sharing a body creates very good friends. The only one the demon had ever truly known.
Qee'lakstreea couldn't help but smile. He took the healing pouch from Balkin, eating it, moving it through the body to heal where it needed to. "he is dead." he says again, as sorrowful as the deep gutteral voice would allow. Then the lips couldn't help but twist into a smirk. " you shall help me get him back..."
Kerath watched the spectacle with venorik's posessed body and the dark weaver, trying to come to terms with the death of the closest thing to a friend Kerath had ever known. Venorik had helped bring him back to this world, had stood by him through all the dangers since, and had never tried to stab him in the back or blackmail him in any way. (That last thing being quite a rare occurence in drow society, even among supposed "friends"). Now he watched as Qee'Lakstreea took out his anger at Venorik's death at the other drow, putting up little defense besides a weak magical barrier and line of energy... nothing that would stop the likes of a balor.
After the fight was over, though, and it looked as if Venorik would be back soon enough, Kerath just shrugged, relaxed his muscles, and took out his healing salve. Qee'Lakstreea seemed to be taking care of everything easily enough. He sat down against the wall of the dread army headquarters and started applying the salves to his wounds.
Balkin was disgusted by the idea. "never!" he spat out before he knew what he was doing. A flight across another expanse and another violent slam into a wall quickly eradicted any objections. He hated Venorik with every inch of his body, but he wasn't stupid. It wasn't worth his own life. Qee'lakstreea saw the nod as he came walking up to the fallen form of the dark weaver. "good." he growls. " you will follow my lead. If you do it quickly, you just might stay alive once Venorik is back." Qee'lakstreea knew that was lie. Once Venorik knew this one had tried to kill him..all he could do was smirk.
Qee'lakstreea started chanting in an abyssal language, his dark voice ringing through the air unlike any normal sound. It was a sound that would send shivers down the spines of other demons, ritual that was not looked highly upon. The summoning of a soul out of the abyss. Many were fine with stealing souls from the hells, but the abyss liked to keep it's food. He doubted Venorik would go down too well. He actually knew that Venorik ws quite safe in the abyss, but he also knew that his companion would want his body back. Venorik couldn't shift planes without his help.
Balkin followed the conjuring, adding his energy to the growing pot of magic starting to surround them. It gave him the worst feeling, like death itself was taunting him, promising him punishment just for hearing the words spoken by Venorik's form. The magic around him now was unlike anything he had previously felt. He just kept adding his energy to that of the demon, focusing everything he had on gathering it together.
Qee'lakstreea knew exactly what he was doing. This was the same ceremony they had used to pull Kerath from the clutches of the abyss. His growling voice became distant yet loud, everywhere, yet unreal. It was something not meant to be, something this plane itself wished to cast out. He raised his clawed hands out, and suddenly the swords that were the casing of his essence were in his fists.He held them out, His voice only getting more otherworldly, vibrating the fabric of the material plane. Objects around started to shake. In reality, they werent moving, but in the fight of the plane against this change, the very way things close to the conjuring were seen was warped.
Balkin felt it, felt everything around him go wrong, trying to rid itself of the act they were committing. He kept adding power, nothing in comparison to the demon, but helping to focus and channel it more than anything. Things around him blurred, he started feeling weak as the ceremony started sapping more of his energy on it's own.
It started to reach it's pinnacle, the area around them not only warping but being overtaken by shadows, laughing and taunting them as the planal barriers are cheated. A black portal opens in between the two swords, the abyssal conduits, a direct doorway to the abyss. Qee'lakstreea roars the most unworldy cry yet acheived in the spectacle, turning even his own skin, shoving the two blades into the portal. With a yank, he pulls them back out, jabbing the ends into his abdomen. His forms falls to the ground and the swords sink in, disappearing, leaving no scar or wound.
Balkin was dumbfounded. The shadows crept away, gathering, and entering Venorik's eyes! All he could do was stand and watch, jaw open and eyes wide.
Venorik……. The last time he had seen the Weapons master he was fleeing the tantrums of the matron, through one of his portals he was so fond of using. Now Mith Kal’daka had returned, and now was time to find the remains of his army.
Mith Kal’daka paced the deck of the Olath Elemmiire, the flagship of the drow navy, and waited. The amulet had indicated the dagger lay ahead of them, if that were so then so did Venorik and Qee'lakstreea. The ship slid through the night sky, as its magics carried onwards silently. Beneath him the ground passed quickly as they approached the village ahead of them. “sei'lor l' olist wlalths lu' plynn udossa ulu l' draix d'lil village lu' mir gaer.� He ordered, as he stepped of the command deck and walked below. In his quarters he donned on his Armor and weapons. The twin Scimitars of Darksness, a pair of scimitars rested on his back, at his left hip was belted the Mithrill claymore. Numerouse daggers and throwing knives adorned his body, as well as magical and Psionic devices, the most notable the Psionic were the Psionic enhancers that sat on his left hand in the form of knuckle armor. He threw his cloak over his shoulders, it settled concealing all of his weapons and pouches. He felt the Oloth Elemmiire shift to port as she settled over what could be called the town square. If Venorik was here he would find him.
A door opened in the sky, not a portal as one would expect but a metal door opening into a black room with no light. A Dark shape flitted out of the door and to the ground dark magics carried him to the ground. Red eyes could be seen glowing from beneath his hood as the six foot figure straitened from his landing.. His armored left hand gripped a seven foot tall battle staff, his boots silent as the walked forward, he could feel tension in the Air…… war was afoot, it had been several centuries since he had participated in a real war……
The door closed and the barely perceptible distortion moved off as the spell healed itself. They would wait till there master called.
(sorry if the setting is bunged up in any way.)
Jay stepped cautiously into the Dread Army's headquarters, darting glances around in curiosity. He avoided the fighting creatures, not wanting to agitate them into turning on him, and walked quickly by them, staying close to the wall. Seeing a drow sitting against the wall, appearing to be spreading something on his wounded arms, Jay stopped a few yards away. This looked like his best chance of getting anyone's attention without being seriously wounded.
"Knock knock," he said, tapping softly with a fist on the wall. He grinned and stepped closer. "I heard the Dreads were recruiting?"
Kerath had finished healing his wounds and was throwing the now empty bottle to shatter some ten feet away as a human walked over to him, knocked on the wall, and asked if the dread army was recruiting. Kerath had noticed the man before of course, but now realized his intentions of joining the army. He glanced quickly at the balor, now beginning the ritual of bringing Venorik back through the planes. Such rituals could take time to complete so he took it upon himself to deal with the hopeful member. Kerath then looked back to the man, sizing up his strength and trying to discover some hint to his fighting skills through his stance. "Yes we are recruiting," he said qietly as he turned to speak with the human, not wanting to somehow disrupt Qee'Lakstreea's ceremony. "The new commander is..." he looked again to the creature, not quite drow, not quite demon, speaking in the gutteral language of the abyss, "currently indesposed. But you can speak with me about anything. "Tell me, what contribution will you bring? I tell you now, if you do not meet standards of considerable skills, you will not do well to stay. I will not have a liability to look after during battle."
Jay glanced at the preoccupied commander, then cocked his head as he looked back to Kerath. "I assure you, I will never prove a liability in battle," he said confidently, resting one arm comfortably across his sword hilt. He looked around the large room slowly and continued, "I'm Jay. Bounty hunter extraordinaire." He flashed another smile at Kerath, but turned his head again to look at the strange, half-demon drow.
"What's happening with the commander?" he asked, jerking his thumb in that direction.
The cloaked elf Looked over the towns people for a few moments before finding what he needed, the drow grabbed a sleeping drunk by throat, his eyes snapped open to find themselves staring into a set of glowing eyes, And Mith opened the humans mind like a jar. HE gathered there had been a recent battle, one that had not gone well, and that indeed Venorik had been there. He searched the mans head further, looking for any thing that might help him…. A yes dread army. That would be the sort of place Venorik would hide from HER. Not hiding at all but out of sight. He threw the man to the ground, the humans mind shattered beyond repair. He looked around again with a new understanding of his surroundings. Dread army he muttered to himself as he went towards the building the little drunks mind had known as their headquarters………….
He opened the door and stepped inside glancing around, looking over the facilities, they looked as if they need some upgrades,… but after Living on the Olath Elemmiire for the last three most surface buildings looked shoddy. He paused a moment before speaking, “I look for who ever is in charge here, Or Venorik Vharzyym. Both are preferable but Iether will do.� He said as he pulled his hood back revealing his silver hair, obsidian skin and eyes that seemed to be glowing with swirls of color. His staff to seemed to glow, just enough to outline itself if it were dark but it was enough to see……..
He felt his soul breaking free, being ripped through the planes, shredding through at a pace that seemed very unnatural. It felt as though his very soul was being torn, carried in piece by piece to the body that was and now is again his own. It hits him like a brick in the face, being thrown back into his mortal body, pain rattling through his very soul. It was so great.
He opened his eyes once more, and though here it was less than ten minutes, it felt as though they had not been his own in ages. All he could do was smile. He instantly wondered how Qee'lakstreea got the energy to pull him back, for he knew personally the drain that such a forbidden spell put on a being. He felt the features of his body change back to his own, the horns and claws retreating. Then he saw the drow, the one that he had gotten out of the castle, the one that had followed him and appreared out of nowhere."well met." he says to Balkin, clasping the dark weaver on the shoulder. "it seems you have helped me once again."
Qee'lakstreea telepathically screamed in rage, now re-confined to the blades. Venorik was thanking this drow, the one that but minutes ago attempted to finish him during his last moments of life. He tried to warn Venorik, tried to tell him before his actions sent him once again back to the abyss, but it was too late. All he could do was open a portal, using up reserves of energy that was best left unused, and leaving none left.
Balkin smirked as Venorik greeted him with such happiness, well, a lot for a drow. One of his blades were in his left hand. He muttered an incantation as Venorik drew near, one for Lolth enhanced skill with a blade. As Venorik's hand touched his shoulder, Balkin's came out, plunging the blade deep within the commander of the dread army. Or so he thought. Once again a look of dread was upon his face as Venorik's boot planted into his face, almost dislocating his jaw.
Qee'lakstreea's portal absorbed the sword, and Venorik was quick to react. He spun, his boot making a firm connection on the dark weaver's face. The blades of Qee'lakstreea were in his hands by the time the spin ended, and he quickly used the momentum, turning the blades in a diagnal slash, only to be stopped by some sort of magical barrier. A small light was glowing where the swords were stopped, but it didn't suprise the commander too much. He knew much about wizards, and knew as much about most drow wizards as they did about themselves.
Once again Balkin was saved by the barrier, and he started to realize what it was.He holds his blades firmly in his hands, hoping that he could at least defend against this great fighter that he had so greatly underestimated, and that, he figured, would most likely be his demise.
Venorik jabbed in with his right hand, purposely coming short to cause the reaction he knew would occur, that Balkin would jump to the side. It never failed, and when the dark weaver moved to dodge the attack, he was met by Venorik's left hand sword, aiming in at his shoulder. He barely got his sword up in time to block in. Venorik used the momentum of the thrust to keep it into another spin, the first sword flashing towards the back of Balking neck as he blocked the first. Again he was met by the barrier.
Qee'lakstreea flashed at unreal speeds, Balkin's salvation being the magical barriers that kept popping up to stop the deadly blades. He chanted another spell under the protective sheild, and gripped his blades tighter. This time Balkin led the attack, rushing towards Venorik, both swords being swung at the opposing drow's abodomen. He couldn't get close, not with any amount of anhancement spells. That was one of the upsides up training nonstop for over eight hundred and fifty years, with many uncounted from the long stays Venorik frequented in the abyss.
Venorik blocked the futile attacks with ease, Qee'lakstreea's immediate helping and a sense almost bordering foresight in battle, it was nothin but childs play to bat away the hooked blades being hurled at him in the hands of a dark weaver. He was getting tired of the game, and the balor headed hilts of the blades of Qee'lakstreea felt warmer in his grasp.
He came on swiftly, working and building on the momentum he gained with each perfectly balanced swing of a blade, his body twisting and arcing in harmony with his attacks. Balkin had been blinded by rage for all these years, and now he couldn't comprehend what he was thinking before, believing he could slay the destroyer. His entire house could not stand before this one, how could he stand against him alone? would he perish, as every single one of them had?
He fought for his life against the blades of Venorik, already knowing, but not wanting to truly accept, the outcome. The barrier came again, but Venorik was ready, exerting energy and driving the abyssal blade right tnrough, finding Balkin's side with it's wicked edge. Balkin jumped back in pain, grimacing. The dark weaver throws his blades to the side, quickly gulping down one of his various enchanted animal organs. Spider web grows from his his palm, solidifying into a whip, but no grip forming, the web staying connected into his palm. He smirked. It had been a long time since he had used this spell, one that had never failed.
Venorik smiled wider than Balkin did. This one truly must not understand who he is fighting, he thinks to himself. He would not be the first dark weaver to fall to the blades of Qee'lakstreea. He puts his blades into an X, bowing. " lets dance." he hisses in the drow tongue, eyes glowing with the fire that burned within his sockets.
Kerath looked back to the scene happening with the former weapons master. "Venorik is having a bad day," he remarked casually, knowing that nothing too serious was happening to him. "And his demon friend is just helping him with a little problem. Death is an insanely annoying affair, even with someone to bail you out immediatly. You see, anyone can cheat death, but looking it right in the eye, then spitting in it, and getting and staying away from the vengeance of the abyss.... that is a little tricky." Kerath looked back at the bounty hunter. "Do not worry. He will be back soon, I assure you."
Just then a cloaked figure entered the headquarters. He was just over average hight for a human and carried a long battle staff. Kerath could not see any other weapons, but they were no doubt hidden by the cloak. This stranger said he was looking for the leader, or Venorik. This seemed odd to Kerath. Not many knew Venorik by his name. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled . Then the figure pulled off his hood, showing the unmistakenable white hair and ebon skin of a drow. Kerath walked to stand several feet directly in front of the drow. "First tell me who you are and why you believe there is even any organazation needing a leader within my humble abode." He paused slightly and silently readied his muscles.
Balkin was the first to strike, swinging one strand of web sideways at Venorik, nd whipping the other one straight out towards his opponent. The felt weightless to him, following his movements as perfectly as did his blades. He was smart though, and smart enough to know that this was just a futile attempt at delaying his death. He didn't know how true it was though, that Venorik was truly toying with him for ammusement.
Venorik easily knocked the whips away with a smile on his face. He torn cloak still flowed behind him with as much grace as his body moved with as he jumped and dodged, steadily coming closer to his enemy. It was funny, and he was enjoying this little game, but Qee'lakstreea informed him that it was urgent to end this quickly. Through all their years together he had learned never to doubt his blades.
He speedily leapt forward, right on top of Balkin, connecting the hilt of the blade to the back of the dark weavers head. It was all so easy. "next time stick with magic." he says as the drow's form falls to the ground next to him. He doubted that one would awake any time soon. Qee'lkstreea bade him it was necessary for him to get back to the headquarters. Picking Balkin up and placing the limp unconcious form on his shoulders, he starts the short journey back to the buildin. As he approached, he spots the pool of blood where he had fallen. All he could do was smile.
(ooc) sorry tis kinda short lol
"WE GOT IT!!!!!!!!" The foursome of Rexus, Jonesy, Alfred, and Aisengod yelled as they came sprinting back into the DMV. "I can't believe we actually got it.." Jonesy panted while catching his breath. "Now we can give the bloody thing to our commander and hopefully figure out what to do with this thing."
Walking in to where their commander was, the foursome noticed that he was busy in a fight....they turned around quickly and walked away...going to a nearby house, they sat down in the yard and opened the book.
FLASH, BANG, BOOM, DOOM, AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
The four fell back as the book's pages began glowing, emitting a powerful energy aura...
"Holy Sh!t...." Aisengod finally let out after sitting up to see the book....
(eh, crap of a post)
He nodded slightly as the mans muscles tightened, any battle hardened warrior would do so at the sight of his kind, the drow grinned as he leaned forward, “A little jabbering drunk told me that this was the place to find the� he paused a moment as he pondered . “dread army� he resumed. And I can feel Venoriks presence. Even more so I feel Qee'lakstreea’s magic very strongly here, If he is here for any good reason, this place would draw him the most.� He finished with the explination, and leaned back. He had searched this long he would not turn back with out at least speaking to Venorik. he shifted a bit as he readied his self for introducing himself, more oft then naught this brought on attepts on his life. I Am Mith Kal’daka, Former patron of Venoriks former falling house.� He started, his eyes grew a brighter red as he thought of the matrons weakness and betrayal. “so you tell me, IS Venorik with you? Or do you hold him?� he asked finaley as his fingers spun his staff slowly in his hand, as if trying to drill a hole in the floor, his impatient’s beginning to show.
He finally got close enough to the building to hear what was happening inside, also usng his senses enhanced by the demon. MITH! he thought to himself. The voice was unmistakable, as were all to Qee'lakstreea. He slowly set Balkin's form against the wall in the doorway. He still had plans for this one, and he assumed the story behind his encounter with this drow was much more compicated than his new problems with Lith My'athar.
He could feel the tension between the two. He turns his head to Kerath, offering a disarming smirk. He knew Mith all too well. He looks back to Mith, the smirk still upon his face. " It's been a long time." he says to Mith jokingly. " i knew i would see you again eventually." he motions to Kerath, the drow who was his most trusted friend besides Qee'lakstreea, and well, the only person he trusted besides the demon. " this is Kerath. You would do well not to cross him.....So, did you come to join us, or just drop by to say hello?" he still wore the same smirk, and let out a chuckle with his last comment. " i suggest staying here. It's quite a good thing we got going here...the most fun i've had since they called me the destroyer."
He then decides, despite all that was going on, to give the human a bit of attention. He was, after all, the commander now. "sign up there." he says, pointing to the same parchment that had been used before the failed seige. He would keep that parchment, because every name on there was now bound to the dread army until death. He expected every single person back who wasn't killed or captured. " keep in mind that you are now with the dread army. You have anwers to questions best left unanswered. I am glad to have you with us, do not doubt, but if you change your mind about joining us now your head will be seperated from it's perch before you could exit the door. welcome to the dread army."
He looks back to Balkin, slumped against the wall. This one felt so familiar....
Mith Kal’daka was prepared to fight, this man didn’t seem to know the danger he was in by hindering his search. Many a fool had died for with holding required information from the drow. He was sizing the man up when Venorik appeared, small telltale signs of combat about him. The drow grinned as his friend greeted him, as such a friend a drow could have. Venorik was one of the few Mith Kal’daka Ischarri trusted, and as such came looking for him. “I see you are well comrade� he said in common. He pondered the join us comment for a moment “Vel'bol ph' dos haska, valm udossa? Usstan doerrus ulu ensure dos zhahen still dro lu' sreen'aur.� He continued, the drow trying to deduce exactly what is transpiring in this little village.
Kerath wondered how much to tell this mysterious visitor. He had long ago learned to trust no one, especially his own race, but this drow knew much already. Much that few, even of Venorik's former house would ever discover and live to tell about. The strange drow didn't look as if he was hunting Venorik, at least not for Lith My'athar or another city. He obviously knew him personally, but whether that relationship turned out well or not, Kerath could not quite tell. This one was hard to read. His body language said little, as did his eyes.
Just then, Venorik walked into the room. Kerath stood impassively as he watched the exhange between the two drow. "So, you do know one anther," he thought upon hearing the greeting of the former weapons master. "And apparently were friends," he added silently to himself. Kerath looked from one to the other once more before turning back to the human. "Find and unoccupied house to make your chambers for when we are in the village," he told the bounty hunter quietly. "There should be one across the lane from where we are. If not..." He smiled. "Give the present inhabitants their last eviction notice."
He looked to Mith with a smirk. "d' heen ussta abbil" he says with a slight chuckle."lu'oh gumash dos rin'ov guu'lac?" Venorik turns to Kerath upon hearing what he had said to the human. " only if they will no share the residence. we truly do not need anymore enemies..." He then looks straightto Kerath. " this is Mith, he can be trusted, i assure you." He rubs his hand slowly across his face, then runs his fingers through his long white hair, feeling it flow around them, easily falling back into place the moment it could no longer feel his touch. " that last trip was not very enjoyable." he says, refering to the trip back to this plane, where his soul had been torn and forced into his body by the demonic ceremony.
He goes to the wall, clutching Balkin's shirt and dragging him to the middle of the room. He sits the unconcious body upon a chair, binding him with the web whips he had used as weapons in their fight. After he bound his new prisoner, Venorik shuts the door the building, figuring any who truly wanted in would knock, then walks back to hover over Balkin. " we shall get this one to talk." he says evilly to his companions. Qee'lakstreea works into the dark weaver's mind, getting a hold on it and staying there. It was all so beautiful. If he wanted to, he could erase all of Balkin's memories, even replace them with false ones if he cared to. He could paralyze him for life, or turn him into a vegetable. He just stayedin his mind, though, and would make sure that this one used no magic, as he had done so many times before.
It had been a long time since either Tala or Xana had been here, and unlike before, They were now one person. Even They did not know how they ended up like that, and they are still getting used to it. So, because they were so new to the whole ‘one body, two brains’ they tended to try and do two things at once, but because Tala had always been the more dominant of the two, she tended to control more of the actions and words than her twin, but because she was so nice, she spoke in third person. Xala, thusly called because both were to stubborn to give up their names, had been walking for a while, the six inch blades on her gloved hands leaving little indents in tree’s if she got lost, which she wouldn’t. The blue haired girl didn’t look very menacing, it was mostly her blades that made her scary, and she was good with them, well Tala was. After about five minutes of trampling through the forest she came across her target, the dread army hideout… place.
Xala was rather shocked and a small quirk tilted the corner of her mouth up, as she looked at the ‘hideout’. “Well, This is… different�, she spoke, though quietly; she had two voices, though they spoke at the same time. One was lower than the other, but only slightly, and if someone knew either Tala or Xana before the little merging, they would be able to point out who’s voice was who’s. The Dragon merger gave a sigh when the door closed and a rather dirty thought ran through her head… One that she didn’t care to express out loud. The blue haired girl gave a smirk and shook her head, putting her hands on her hips as she walked towards the door. Careful not to make much more noise than needed, the only way that she could have knocked on the door without killing it was to kick it, so that’s what she did, though rather lightly. Opening the door, careful to have her mismatched eye’s closed, she stepped into the room.
The door was lightly closed behind her and she had her eyes closed, she felt around. Careful not to slice through anything she just leaned against the wall. “Don’t worry, we aren’t looking.� She spoke, careful to be quiet and keep her head down. They would probably see her as a threat, though she didn’t look very tough. Blue hair was ‘spiked’ up and a trench coat fell to her ankles, it was done up below her breast and her hand her hands hanging at her sides, six inch claws between each knuckle.
(Blagh… sorry if it sucks ^_^; )
Kerath frowned upon hearing Venorik's dissaproval of his idea of eviction. He was never happy when bloodshed was stopped, for any reason. "They are just pittiful villagers," he told the new commander. "They will not live to tell the tale to those in Serindipity anyway." He was not in a good mood now. He silently vowed to kill whoever lived in the house in question, even though they had no part in Venorik's decision... it would make him feel better.
A puzzled look found it's way onto his face then as a little girl with blue hair walked into the room, eyes shut, saying she wasn't looking. Kerath arched his brow and looked to Venorik, then back to the girl, blades extended from her hands. "Can we help you?" he asked after his surprise started to wear off. "Do you know where you are girl?"
Jay smiled grimly and signed his name on the parchment without hesitation, signed away his life to the Dread Army. This should be fun, he thought. He'd never really worried about things in his entire life, why should he now?
He turned back to Kerath and Venorik, listened to Kerath's sulking with a small grin and then swept a low bow to both of them. "Thank you, comrades. I'm sure I can find a comfortable enough place to stay on my own." He started towards the door again, this time feeling sure of himself to the point of cockiness, but slowed when the blue-haired girl entered.
The strange girl had her eyes closed. What was she thinking? And why was she here if not to look around? The Dread Army headquarters didn't smell particularly interesting, nor were its walls a very exciting texture. Curious, Jay stepped close to her and leaned forward so his face was mere inches from hers. "What aren't you looking at?"
Balkin woke up, his arms, wrists, legs, ankles, chest, even his neck tied back. He could't move. His head also felt...different, almost cloudy. His head was kept where he could see them..and he did. Venorik stood over him, smiling, with two other drow around him.. He noticed the one as Venorik's...friend. The other he had never seen before. He cursed himself silently for underestimating Venorik...which he had done immensly...and for striking at the warrior a second time. " vith.." he grumbles, moving his head in as much of a circle as his bindings would allow. The back of is head ached, and it was because of his own stupidity.
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Venorik smiled over the waking drow. He had just finished with the bindings when the prisoner stirred, and uttered a curse, obviously still disoriented from the blow the Blades of Qee'lakstreea had place upon his head, knocking the dark weaver from conciousness. Qee'lakstreea still had complete control over this one's mind, and Balkin would only be able to do what Venorik wanted him to do.
He started draining information from his prisoner's mind when a female walked in. He knew why she was here, to join the dread army, for why else would she be here, but did not understand why her eyes closed or why she was so concerned with not watching. No matter, she was a female, Venorik thinks to himself. He could use one of those right about now. He puts a globe of darkness around Balkin and has Qee'lakstreea disable any noises he would try to make.
He strides toward Xala with a smile on his face,but taking a second to give Jay a glare which clearly told him to back off, his eyes moving up and down her form, which was quite alluring. "greetings." he says to her innocently. " i am Venorik Vharzyym, commander of the Dread Army. He steps closer, moving to put an arm around her and trail a finger along her outer thigh. He had never had a human before, but guessed that they could not be that different from drow females, which this approach would easily work on. " is there anything that i can...do for you?"
( bwah! lol)
The dragon merger kept her head down and then lifted it when foot steps came close to her, she heard a voice and she lifted her head, her eyes still closed. A small smirk on her lips when he asked her what she wasn’t looking at, she opened her right eye first, it was a dark blue then the left one followed this one was an orange colour. “What we weren’t looking at isn’t much.� Her voices low and snobbish sounding, she looked around the room and rose a brow, well… I was empty, and that was new. Xala looked towards the drow as he made his way over and she just watched him for a moment as he made his way towards her. Her mismatched eyes looked at his hand and watched it touch her thigh, they narrowed slightly and she stood up, pressing the blades of her gloves lightly to the drow’s arm.
�If you want to keep you’re arm, you’ll stop touching us.� Her voices where cold sounding and her glared at him. She wasn’t going to get raped so soon, by a Drow no less. Xala stepped away slightly, her hand still holding the blades to his arm. “Our blades make rock look like butter… Don’t push us.� Xala walked more into the room and sat beside a wall, happy with herself that she found this place on her first try. Okay, so it wasn’t what she expected, the blue haired girl looked to Venorik and rose a eyebrow. “What happened to this place? Last time We were here… there were… more people.� Once again casting her eyes around the room, Xala herself was a privet person, so she decided not to ask what was going on, if they wanted her to know, they would tell her.
Venorik accapted the denial with little dissapointment, absorbing the knowledge that the races weren't as alike as a assumed. It was funny that she threatened him, thinking she could truly harm him. He liked this one, though he figured out that she would not be in his bed...just yet. His eyes met hers, and he found them very fascinating, and he wondered if they had any connection to why she refered to herself as "we". He decided not to ask at the moment though, and instead answer her questions.
" we have just suffered a great disturbance in the organization. Poor leadership, which i was unaware of, led us to a futile attack on serendipity. The last commander, Nakaris, was captured, as was i believe the one named siyavash. They will eventually be rescued..but not before Nakaris pays fo what he did to us all. Now i am commander, and Kerath over there," he says, pointing to his friend," is the new sub-commander. I am already in the act of strenghening the army...is shall be much stronger than ever before, and i have plans for a great victory." he raises a brow to her, smirking. " you'd be amazed at what i drow can do..."
He looks back to the globe of darkness, his smirk leaving his lips. Balkin was trying to fight Qee'lakstreea's hold, was trying to use magic. He would pay, yes, he would pay for it all. That dark weaver would pray to lolth to take him back in time, so he could change his decision of ever seeking knowledge of Venorik Vharzyym S'liston Bor'vizzmyll. "if he continues to stuggle, turn him off." he tell Qee'lakstreea telepathically. " his time for attention will come, maybe sooner than planned, for he seems very eager."
He turns his attention back to the female, remembering that she still help his arm. He looks to her grip with a smirk, raising a brow to her again, rubbing a finger on the arm that held his own. " unless you enjoy feeling my body, which i can help you with, you can release me. I can assure you that no matter how good the blades are, you can do no lasting damage."
Jay stepped back obediently, leaving the girl to Venorik. He went for the door again, flashing a silent two-finger salute back as he exited the complex.
Outside, the air was clear and the light breeze flipped Jay's hair around his face. He shook his head to clear his vision and walked calmly across to stand in front of his potential new home. He put his hands on his lower back and appraised the building carefully. It was nice looking, but not too nice, and at last the bounty hunter nodded in approval.
He approached the front door and knocked loudly, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling his best sleaze-merchant smile as he waited for someone to open it.
"Helloooo," he said loudly as soon as someone, a rather short, elderly woman, as it happened, pulled the door open from the inside. She looked at him suspiciously as he ducked his head inside, peering around the front room over her shoulder.
"Don't worry, old woman! I'm just looking for a place to live... I'm sure you have an opening?" She squinted at him again, then glanced behind him in the direction of the Dread Army's headquarters. She seemed to guess where he was from, because she sighed loudly and let him inside.
"Rent is..." the old woman started, but when Jay looked pointedly back at the headquarters, she shook her head. "You can stay in there. Free." She pointed to a doorway a little farther inside.
"Thank you so much," the bounty hunter said, grinning widely as he shook the old woman's hand. "I'm Jay. I'll go get moved in then, hm?"
He smiled again a moment later when he heard his new landlady grumbling quietly to herself in the kitchen about the rudeness of young people these days. Closing the door to his new room, which looked like it was being lived in (and, judging from the rumpled clothing on the floor, not by the old woman -- more likely her son or another male tenant), Jay dropped his pack carelessly onto the floor. He kicked the clothes to the side, thinking he'd ask the old woman to move them tomorrow, and flopped onto the bed. He folded his arms behind his head and, not even bothering to remove his boots, fell asleep and began loudly snoring.
Mith Kal’daka had faded into the shadows as the girl entered; he was new here and would not be caught off guard. He knew Venorik would understand his disappearance, as he had spent many moons with the drow and he knew the dangers as well as anyone for being Mith Kal’daka. The former druid silenced all his thoughts as the door opened, all but one... (He was not there…. he was not there) this thought causing those around him to not see him lurking in the shadows. The Psion portion of the ancient drow’s brain helping conceal him and searching constantly for the advantage soon deciphered a spilt persona, two distinct personalities inhabited that body………
The message to Venorik would be heard only by him and Venorik. The drows mind precisely delivery the thought to a point in the room. “There are two of them, possibly demon; one does not inhabit an object.� He figure Venorik would get the short gist of the message from his own personal experiences. The drows fingers tightened on his staff as he watched the altercation…. She was dangerous possibly more dangerous than Venorik knew….
With a roll of her mismatched eyes she dropped the commander’s arm and placed her hand on her hips, careful not to dig her claws anywhere. The most she could do was move quickly, that and turn into a dragon to squash people, but she didn’t do that too often. After a smirk on her face she flicked her head to the side, moving the hair from her odd colored eyes and then moved off, ignoring his statement and somewhat of a question and leaned against a wall. It didn’t look like much of an army right now. After casting her eyes about the room she decided to just stare at the ground… “Hmm We have to re-write our name on the piece of paper…� She muttered and looked up towards the head drow person and cleared her throat politely before speaking louder than before, the higher voice, which has been Xana’s, was a bit more noticeable and she looked to the commander for a moment before speaking. “Before, there was a sheet of parchment that we had to write our names on.. Is it still here?� Xala didn’t look much like her voice, and cleared her throat again looking around the room once more.
(OOC: WOW! it's craptastic... enjoy :P)
A rather large gargoylish figure flies over the Dread Army Headquarters, while overlooking the vast Dark Mage Village with a pupiless violet glow he calls eyes. His skin tone is a dark blue and he has four horns that curve back with his long, black hair. The gargoyle’s attire consists of a pair of blood red, baggy pants and a tattered black shirt. His wings are huge. They seem like they top fifteen feet in length. His bodily form itself seems as if it's barely half that length in its height. What catches his eyes is the small gathering down below. Time for the beast to investigate. He folds his wings back and quickly dives down. Once close enough, his wings pop back out to stop him in midair and he lands on the edge of the rooftop of the DA HQ building. He smiles slightly as he overlooks each individual.
"What do we have here?" The gargoylish figure asks pretty much himself with a deep and dark voice. One that is enough to strike fear in even the grandest of hearts.
Kerath shook his head at Venorik's childish antics with the human girl, the one with different color eyes. He had, through years of experience, gotten quite proficient at reading people's eyes. If you looked deeply enough, you could glimpse the souls of all but the most weary. Xala had strange eyes though. It seemed... they did not agree. "It will wait," he thought to himself about confronting her about it. He had more important things to worry about than some human's possible personality problems.
The appearence of the drow, Mith Venorik called him, and Venorik's speaking of how the army would be stronger than ever had gotten him thinking. "Some of them must still be alive... and there are probably more. Someone most likely took over after my death." He was thinking of his network of assasins, informants, and thieves he had left behind when he had been sacrificed. Perhaps it was time for their leader to return, and bring some trusted (Well, at least by drow standards) fighters and perhaps a mage back with him. "Yes," he thought. "If I can reistablish my network in the underdark, added with the dread army, I could have the beginnings of an empire." He had decided. Drash N'cothera, his old city, was not far from here, only two to three days walk from the cave he and Venorik had first used to reach the surface, through the secret tunnels that Kerath knew. He would work on getting things up and running here, then take his leave, coming back with some warriors, he guessed, an even match for anything the surface could come up with. After all, they were his warriors.
Venorik continued to smile at the female, his eyes still moving across her form, slightly lamenting her refusal. He took in the information from Mith. He had guessed as much. He had to admit that of all the things about her, her hair seemed amazing to him. He had never seen blue hair before, and saw it as something which was odd indeed. His head gave a slight nod to her question, and he looks back to the center of the room, to a table right behind the globe of darkness. " The parchment is right over on that table." his hands motioned towards it as he spoke, yet his gaze was towards te globe. Balkin was still trying to fight Qee'lakstreea's hold. He had no doubt that the demon was easily dominating, but it still annoyed him that the drow thought he had a chance. He had obviously learned nothing during his brutal beating.
He heard, or rather, Qee'lakstreea heard, the gargoyle land on the roof. How convenient, Venorik thinks to himself. More muscle for my cause. He wouldn't go outside and get it, though, couldn't even bring himself to turn his head. He had too many other things to do. " just come and sign up, if that is you intent. If not, i would reccomend you come no closer." Qee'lakstreea sends to the gargoyle telepathically in it's deep, demonic voice. Venorik keeps his gaze toward the globe, at the dark weaver he knew was inside it. Too many other things to do....
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Balkin fought back for control of his mind. He knew the second things changed that it was no longer his. He wrestled with the other being wih no resuslts. He knew he couldn't defeat it, but wouldn't give up, hoping to find a weakness. Even his magical..and clerical,abilities were somehow disabled. All he could hear was a demonic laughter in his head just before everything went black again...
He let the illusion fall and walked over to Venorik, he had much to discuss with this one. Very few had ever succeeded in leaving the underdark and successfully integrating themselves fully into a surface society.. yet he had no doubt that Venorik could succeede here. “Tesso uns'aa abbil vel'bol zhah dos intend whol uns'aa ulu valm. vel'bol nibele xun nindolen lodias jivvin nindel dos z'reninth orn'la entertain uns'aa?� he askes, once more leaning on his staff, the old drow was a mere foot shorter than the seven foot weapon but still towered over his own people by far, he had seen signs of battle from the Olath Elemmiire’s seck but no indication of who or what. But with recent information he began to suspect…… “tesso uns'aa, ph' dos involved wun l' thalack nindel kluthak ulu inbal plynnet nindol region?� he grins, he would definitely enjoy this one moving carefully he moves back to lean against a wall, “perhaps we should speak common for those not inclined to have our secrets floating around their heads.
"Just take the information from his mind..we have not the time for games, i'm afraid." he tells Qee'lakstreea, who was similarly dissapointed, but couldn't deny the truth of it. The demon just started sucking all the knowledge from the dark weaver's mind. He could sort through it when he was done. Moving through Balkin's mind, he just sucked up everything that came his way. Since he had full control, it didn't take very long. Sorting through it was the thing that would take a little bit of time. He started right away. It started in order, birth, early childhood...he noticed that there were a few mentions of an older brother, the third, who was sacrificed at birth, as was the custom. His sisters would at times say they wished it was he who was at the end of the blade, that he had been the third born son. His training at the school of wizardry in Mor'igion. Balkin had thoughts of dreams from Lolth, bidding him to seek Kaldin, which was Venorik's birth-given name, after house Delgo, his house, was destroyed. Qee'lakstreea stopped. The demon couldn't believe it. He kept sorting through, thinking he erred in the reading, only to find he had not. Delgo. This one's name was Balkin....Delgo.
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" Yes, we have been since we came here." Venorik tells Mith. " and i promise you would have fun. I refuse to tell my plan to anybody, that i will not bend on, but do not doubt that when my plans come into action, you will not have an ounce of regret for staying with us....and the best part is, the blood spilled shall not be that of drow, but of surface dwellers..and i've also heard a rumor that these surface females are quite fiery in bed..." he says, nodding his head towards Xala with a smirk. " and no venomous whips...or dominant behaviors!"
Suddenly Qee'lakstreea was practically screaming in his head. He focused himself and calmed Qee'lakstreea. Obviously he knew something important. Then his face went blank, not knowing what expression to mold upon itself. How? he asked himself. He had never even considered it, thought it impossible. The rest of the information came to him in an instant. Lolth had wanted them to meet...to finish it? He couldn't know...but he did know that it was time for Balkin to awaken.
After watching the drow males for a moment she decided to just shake her head and ignore the leader one, she was on her way, about the sign that stupid piece of parchment when the leader guy started talking again. A nasty little thought ran though her blue haired head and she stopped and shoot a smirk towards him before making her way towards the Drow commander. “So, you think that us surface dwellers are fiery in bed? Wouldn’t you like to know eh?� Xala said her voice a purr as she walked towards him her hands palms out and her face upturned and her mismatched eyes on Ven’s red ones. She didn’t really think about what she was going, she just knew that she wanted to piss him off, hopefully it would worked. So with that Xala grabbed Ven’s head, pulled it down to her own and gave him a long kiss on the lips all the while grinding her hips into his. She let him go as suddenly as she grabbed him and then went the piece of parchment and wrote down the name ‘Xala’ in large fancy letters before turning around on her heel and heading towards the door. Turning to look at the other inside casting her orange and blue eyes around before dropping them onto the commander. “If you want to know why we talk like we are two people… Just ask, We won’t be giving the information on our own freewill.�
The blue haired surface dweller turned quickly, causing wind to pick up the bottom of her trench coat as she walked away and jumped up into a tree to hang out on a branch. Crossing her arms over her chest she just sat there a looked down, maybe joining the dread army again was a bad idea, no matter, she could probably kick any of their butts if she got the chance.
Kerath looked at Venorik with disgust. The human girl was not worthy of one of his race. Kerath was, like many drow, a xenophobe, and saw most females who were not at least elf-kind as repulsive. To think of lowering one's self to the level huimans. He would have shuddered had his warrior disipline allowed it. "I will have to speak with you about this later," he thought as he turned toward the door. By how things were going at the moment, Kerath guessed that he would not get a better time to leave. There wasn't likely to be much more than waiting for new recuits for the next couple weeks anyway.
"I am leaving to reistablish my contacts in the underdark," he announced to Venorik and the appearent ally, Mith. "It will greatly aid us to have a network in our world as well as this one. I will also bring some of my best agents with me. The more drow in this army, the better off we will be." He grabbed some rations from where they were stored on the other side of the bar. Kerath silently hoped that his assumptions about his organization still standing were true. It had been over 500 years afterall. He thrust the doubts from his mind as he walked out the door. Even if he found no one to bring back to the dread army, it would feel very, very good to kill his younger sister if she still lived. He wondered what it felt like to be on the other side of a sacrificial knife...
Venorik realized something when the human kissed him, grinding against him with lust he could quite well understand. He followed through it, hesitantly returning the kiss that was given to him. He knew it was a trick due to the sudden change, and he thought it quite funny, but he knew she was into the trick. He realized in those few moments something he had thought and questioned to himself about for a while. He realized why Kerath was looking down upon him, why other drow would, for doing this. He realized, in the pitiful attempt of a kiss and the ill-played advances, why his race was xenophobic. He returned Kerath's obvious disapproval with a knowing smirk that showed to his friend his feelings on the matter. The nocturnal activities were the only thing he truly missed about Lith My'athar. Priestesses usually pulled him from activities to accompany them bed, and many times he was pulled from one bed to another. It had almost been getting to him, for he had not had a night companion since he left the drow city.
The commander nodded his approval and agreement to Kerath. He would take time to do the same after things got more situated. As the commander he was needed in the reforming of the army. He held no doubts that after they were done with it, this army would be a much stronger force than it had ever been in the past. With that he turns to Balkin, who had awaken and sat staring at him. He had to hear it from the drow's own lips. "what is your name?" he asks Balkin sternly. He was returned with a hesitant answer of " Balkin Delgo". "your mother's name?" Venorik asks in a similar tone. He got the answer he expected. " Zeer Delgo". Venorik smirks at him. " i know why you hunt me." he says, teasingly. " but i do not think you do."
" YOU KILLED MY FAMILY!!" Balkin yells in response, spitting at Venorik but having a extremely bad angle and frowning as it misses his enemy's form.
" I killed my family." Venorik corrects, smirking at his prisoners confused face. With a signal to Qee'lakstreea Balkin's bindings are loosened, and the drow stands to face Venorik, his red robe flowing back down as he does so, glaring at the smile the commander kept on his face. " You have been hunting me." Venorik tells him. " Venorik Vharzyym...born, Kaldin Delgo."
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Dimbian marched through the woodland, spitting on a nearby tree. His armor's clanking mixed with that of his clan members to form a rumble as the dwarven brigade neared the dark mage village. The shining eyeball with horns, the symbol of clan Hatchetskull, cleamed in the sun from his magnificent armor, enchanted with resistance to magic.. The magic of his helmet caused the sun to not hinder him as it would have if he didn't have it, but the rest of his kin walked with hands over their foreheads, blocking the annoying and painful waves. The curling horns of his helm, bending back and curving forward to point out in front of him, led the way as the leader led his troups to their only hope of causing damage. This clan of duergar, grey dwarves, had recently lost their home to their red-bearded cousins, and the twenty one of them, including their king, were all that remained. " we be nearin' the end!" Dimbian yells to the rest of the duergar as the village comes into sight. Hoots and cheers erupted throughout the small group, but they kept their pace, the pace of their king, Dimbian Hatchetskull.
Sirrenen Nolda walked alone through the wilderness that surrounded the Dark Mage Village. These woods were dangeroud, but Sirrenen was not frightened. He knew that his powerful spells woudl protect him from anything lurking in the trees. And even if he was bested, and taken from this world, it would only end the suffering that had taken over his life... If you could call the empty void in which he now existed a life. He would have killed himself years ago, but for the basic primal instinct to survive. Sirrenen just could'nt bring himself to end his pitiful existence, no matter how much he wanted to.
Four years ago, he had been ordered to create a weapon, one that would make an army invincible, for the king of his home land. When he had failed to produce satisfactory results for the impossible task, the corrupt king had his home razed and his family crucified in the royal square. Everything Sirrenen had to live for was taken away. Now all he cared about was to bring as many people down with him. If Sirrenen Nolda was to live in pain, then all the world would share it.
The mage then pulled his goatee in frustation. His bite had begun to heal, but the urges were getting stronger as the moon approached full. He forced the growing lycanthropic side of him down and began walking agian.
The trees had become less dense and soon Sirrenen had walked into a clearing. Down the hill perhaps a hundred yards away was the village. He had seeked out the dread army, guessing that it would be the best way to share his pain with as many as possible. Pausing, Sirrenen looked up to the sky. "Why did you leave me?" he asked breathlessly to the wind. He sighed after hearing no reply. He always waited to hear one. The mage knew that he never would, but somethign made him try... always try.
He walked down the hill and into the village.
<FONT FACE="monotypecorsiva">He watched as the Drow and the girl with split personalities left. He had little intrest In them, his primary intrest was deciding wether to stay or leave. This was not his war but neither though did he have any thing pressing at the moment though. He glared at the drow on the floor and grinned slightly, yes.. perhaps he would stay. He picked a amulet out of his pocket and spoke into it. “urte ders Olath Elemmiire out fi nymba� was his message. The amulet was of Illithids design and finely crafted, designed to allow those without the use of magic or psionics to communicate over long distances. “Vay fus mau Des Ischarri� was heard from the amulet and mith replaced it into his belt. “Very well Venorik, you will explain to me what has happened and perhaps we can come to some kind of arrangement.� He said to Venorik, he heard the distinctive high pitched, almost sub sonic whine of the vessel moving off into the distance (any in the courtyard would feel the movement of air but see nothing.) Mith Kal’daka was never to hasty in making any decisions, before he fully commited this he needed more information… information that he deemed important.
Ty’cor nodded at Mith’s message and shifted his position to the helm. He gave several orders and the vessel began to move off. He would go below and in form the commander as soon as they were a safe distance from the city………. The ships massive bulk moved much fastr than something that size should. The ship virtually held a small army, gun crews sorceres, swardsmen, and bowmen filled her hull. The only possible detection would be an observant mage of great power, though it was doubtfull any one would believe him/her. The night air returned to silence, naught a trace to be heard of the Olath Elemmiire. </FONT>[/code]
Sirrenen stopped suddenly as a mysterious movement of the air reached him. He looked around to the trees scattered about. Any more than some few dozen feet away did not move. The hairs on the back of his neck straightened. "Something is not right," he thought to himself. The mage looked around, above, and even beneath him. Nothing. Sirrenen started muttering an incantation and moving his hands in an intricate pattern in front of him. He did not remember the spell persay. His enchanted guantlets kept the informatoin for him. Arguably more important than their focusing of his powers, they stored every spell Sirrenen had ever performed with them on, ready for the mage to use.
Sirrenen finished the spell and looked about again. There, moving past him above the rooftops was a warship. A puzzled look spread over the man's face as he stroked his goatee. The ship was obviously highly enchanted and whomever controlled it would most likely be of considerable power. He would be careful.
It was a small building, virtually indistignuishable from the others, but, by the smell that Sirrenen's increasingly sensitive nose was picking up told him that he had found the dread army headquarters. He opened the door and stepped inside. He was not particularly surprised at the sight of the two drow. After seeing the ship, he was expecting some strange people within the building. He decided to aim his speech toward the drow who looked like a swordsman without swords for he seemed to be the leader. "This is the Dread Army headquarters." It was more a statement than a question. "My name is Sirrenen Nolda and I have come to join your ranks."
Venorik looked to Mith, knowing that the simple explanation would not satisfy the drow, but had been hoping nonetheless. He didn't truly have the time though. "stay, i will explain it later." he tells Mith. More pressing matters were still calling to him, and he couldn't ignore the horror on Balkin's face. Then he noticed something different. Tears rimmed the eyes of the dark weaver and he was shaking. Venorik wasn't sure what ws going to happen, but his thoughts were thrown as he was embraced by his lost brother. He wasn't sure how to react at first. Oddly, he felt a small amount of happiness in the fact that a brother remained, but he was disgusted by this outward show of affection. He pushed Balkin from his hold, glaring at him. Venoik's discipline just wouldn't allow it. " you with the dread army now." he tells his brother. " go find residence, we will speak later." He had things to sort out personally before he confronted his brother with the truth of all that had happened. Balkin walked out of the building with slumped shoulders, so many things racing through his head he couldn't keep track of half of them.
At about that time a human stepped in. He could tell he was a mage but knew there was something more about him, and from his movements he thought he knew what it was, but kept his suspicions to himself. " sign up on the parchment over there." he tells the human, pointing to the table near he center of them room. " then go find a residence, we'll be here a while." The commander straightened himself out and walked out of the building, starting down the street. He needed time to think, and a place that would allow it. With that in mind, Venorik walked off towards the forest.
Sirrenen glanced around the room and, seeing a parchment on the room's table, walked over to sign his name.
S. Nolda
He was ( and hoped he could remain even with the beast growing within him ), a civilized, educated man, as his fancy signature and cultered accent showed. Sirrenen set down the quill and realized that there was no turning back now. He had been around magic long ehough to know a binding spell when he saw one. If he deserted, he would be hunted for the rest of his life. The mage almost laughed at the thought. A mere piece of paper had just sealed his doom.
The door swung closed as the leader walked out to the street. Only then did Sirrenen truly look at the peculiar scene within the building. He paused and stroked his goatee thoughtfully but decided that, he really didn't care. This shocked him more than anything. More than the invisible flying ship. More than drow. Even more than crying, embracing drow. Sirrenen didn't care. He had once took pleasure in wondering about every one of life's mysteries. What a pathetic creature he had become. "And what else am I becoming," he asked himself, running his hand across the scabbed bite on his left shoulder.
The housing Sirrenen had found was good, the largest home in the village. And he had it all to himself for his alchemy and scying, at least, after had killed the previous occupant with a score of highly venomous conjured spiders. He could thank the drow in the headquarters for the inspiration for using that spell. Sirrenen personally had a dislike of spiders and immediately burned them before they could escape to bite him another day. Sirrenen then began working on an interplaner door to bring his equipment to his new abode.
Balkin walked through the village, his emotions already having been played out, leaving him in his usual thinking mood. He acceped the fact that he was now in the dread army, was excited that he could now spread chaos with his brother, and hopefully Venorik's friend, who he had noticed was very close to him. He had things to do now though. He had things he had plan on doing before he had gotten the solid information about Venorik being on the surface. First, he looked forward to making his staff, and the orb he had obtained on his trip to the dark mage village seemed to be the perfect top to it, after seeing it's display of power against the demon that was obviously with his brother. Then, he had another projectin mind. He had planned on making one for himself for quite some time, but figured he could make two more as gifts for his new counterparts. His eyes searched the streets for a room, but then decided to use one of his simple spellsto raise a magical, one roomed building to stayin directly outside the village.
After half an hour of chanting, the residence appeared. Without hesitation,he walked in and started more chanting, raising his magical forge. He had lot of work ahead of him, and it gave no room for delays. The final ingredient,a blue colored organ,was tossed into the center of the room, bringing sparks from the ballof energy that had formed there. It shifted and molted,finally solidifying into his magical forge. He tossed his weapons and everything else he carried with him to the cornerrof the room, leaving nothing on him but his red robes and a bag of objects, the ingredients he would needto forge this most powerful weapon that he so clearly saw in his mind. He produced a small, foot long rod of mithril from the bag and threw it in the green flames of his forge, then started his hands and fingers in the fluid motions of spellcasting,following by a rising chant to Lolth,the goddess of chaos, the spider queen.
"Gi zhennu ilhar, gi ilhar d' streea. Dos ph' l' jabbuk d' elg'cahl,dos ph' l' renor yah, dos ph' l' orbb vel'dos da'uren kri'sha l' tresk'ri, dos ph' l' jabbuk vel'uss miren l' slyannen. Usstan,dosst dalhar, usstan tlun dosst jesshc,usstan tlun l' rothe d' dosst orn, usstan tlun l' nau'shindcal d' dosst ha'uren, usstan tlun dosst ssivah, usstan, vel'uss ssinssrigg dos phor jal byrren, joros dos ulu ptau'a ussta lar biu ssinssrine. Usstan gultah dos l' vesdrac usstan inbal plynnet, lu' nindyn usstan zhal plynn, dalharuken lu' dalharilen d' nindyn vel'uss chi' udossa, vel'uss venoch udossa, vel'uss thrityh udossta elamshin. Plynn dal mina vel'bol zhah nint lu' belbau ulu uns'aa vel'bol zhah udosst.
Balkin pulls an ingredient, a shining blue gem,from the bag, and throws it in the fires of the forge. Sweat beads down his face, but he continues his chanting. It had only just begun.
" FAERIE BENE TELLEMARA! FAERIE BENE TELLEMARA!"
His arms wave around frantically, fingers swaying wildly, constantly throwing magical energies into the forge. Sparks and pops spray from the fires, which had now turned violently silver. The initial formation was almost done, and his dark staff's form was almost complete. With what felt like the last of his energy,he pulled the final forming ingredients from the bag. The largest, hollowed out surface elf skull,was to be the vessel to the solidifying magic. He slowly placed the other objects inside, sweat pouring from the abuse of his magical talents and from the constant shower of magical sparks and flames emenating from the forge. One by one, the skull became filled. The heart of a dwarf, the eye of a human, the finger of a gnome, and , by far the hardest to come by, the nipple of a priestess of Eilestree, the goodly god of drow traiterous to their heritage. With a smirk wrought of knowledge of the power he will soon control, Balkin tosses the filled skull in the flames.
" FO F'EL, AZ-RA-EL!"
A bright, blinding light bursts from the forge, moving straight through the magical walls and into the open air, visible to any who would look. A sound unable to be heard by mortal ears shrieked toward the heavens and hells. Abadon had been born.
His study was dark as Sirrenen stepped through the interplaner door. He was at his house, a stone two-room building some two-hundred miles east of the Dark Mage Village. With a quick incantation and a flick of his wrist, the room brightened with a blue-green glow. The study was a square room filled with tomes and pieces of magical equipment. Bookshelves lined the walls and the large table to his left was littered with parchments of new spells and other various devices. In the center of the room, was a summoning circle of poured steel, covered in runes. It was nothing compared to the one in his former home, or those in prominent wizarding guilds, but it would hold lesser demons safely. To Sirrenen's left were his scrying crystals and crystal ball, set on a small table and stand. Directly in front of the mage was his fairly basic alchemy lab, of which he was particularly proud. Afterall, Sirrenen was quite proficient at alchemy for one self-learned in the art.
As Sirrenen surveyed all of this, his guantlets had sorted through there memory of spells to find one for complex levitation, one the man had created himself some ten years before for situations just as this, where he would have to move entire rooms of furniture. He began waving his hands in increasingly large star shapes and muttered the words streaming from his gauntlets into his head. Then, very slowly, everything began to rise. Sweat began to glisten on the mage's forhead. He had not had much practice with this spell and was not as good at it as he would have wanted. And keeping the planar door open and wide enough was becoming a burden.
Finally Sirrenen was through and setting down the furniture, summoning circle and all, onto the floor of the village building's main room. He would arrange it about the house to make everything more comfortable later, but now he needed rest. The combination of the spell casting and supressing his lycanthropic urges was taking its toll. The full moon was only two days away and Sirrenen would not be able to fight them for long.
<FONT face="Monotype Corsiva">Mith Kal’daka turned on his heel and walked out the door, he would await word from Venorik on the Olath Elemmiire. As the door shut behind him, he looked about before heading east towards the hills. With the sun soon up he and the ship were best hidden from sight. He had much to consider, if he devoted resources to this part of the realm he would be committed on yet another front. As he reached the edge of the village he began an intricate somatic with his right hand, and with his left hand and staff drew a large oval I the air. When his hand completed its circuit a multicolored vortex opened, with a final look behind he stepped through………….
__________________________________________________________________________-----------------------Olath Elemmiire-------------------------------__________________
In the dead center of the rear of the internal command deck a round circle approximately ten feet in diameter with many drow runes around it bloomed into life as Mith’s portal locked onto it. Commander Jollin’ar stood from the command throne as Mith stepped through, the portal collapsing seconds later. Mith Kal’daka rarely left the ship long enough to warrant it having a second commander, but one could never be too careful. Jollin’ar kneeled as Mith sat in the throne, “we are headed away from the village, though Ty’cor was none to agreeable on the course I chose.� He reported. Mith dismissed him with a wave of his hand as he set his staff in the nooks provided on the left side of the throne. It was the closest thing to home a drow would get this far out from the underdark. The interior had an ithillid design to it; consoles lined the walls glowing with enchanted scrying spells, levers and other strange mechanics. Under several gnomes and collared Ithillid (mind flayers) were tinkering to get the flayer made systems to keep working properly. The collars on the mind flayers kept them under Mith’s control letting them believe they still served the great flayer brain in the brain pool. Control panels the darkness only permeated by the glow of the control panels and the runes on the portal gate ring. Mith tapped a few buttons and flicked several lever switches, thus setting the portal to allow Venorik's entrance. Now he would wait. He barked a command to the drow steering the ship. They slowly circled the village, keeping a safe distance from any living quarters and places of high traffic. While powerful they were they had no nee to over extend their luck.
</FONT>
Ten had been waiting for Mith to retrun for a good amount of time, it seemed to him. He paced across the deck of the ship, with Kenda sitting close by. He could see the eyes of the other drow on board eyeing her and so he eyed them, viciously. His eyes told each drow that he would not pause to kill them, and the he was not afraid of them. "Kenda, come. Mith has returned." He said as he walked towards the hatch and entered the bridge.
He had entered just as the portal closed and walked to the side of Mith where nobody stood at the moment. "Did you find Venorik? How many strong is the army? Where are we??" He asked the questions quickly, slightly excited that war would soon break out. His seal had matured to the point where he now had to kill to satisfy it.
War would give him enough kills to make his seal mature to the final stage. He would be able to destroy the demon within him, control it, or release it. The power was so close he could taste it. The power he desired to finish what he had started, the killing of the Ancient/Old Ones. It was his fault that they had been re-awakened and he had almost finished them off when Shi'nayne sold him out to the remaining Ancient/Old Ones. He had been tortured for 100 years time in only a few short months.
"I can taste the power flowing through me. The Seal hungers for more killing. The Seal needs to feed on the souls of those we slay so that it can mature to the final stage, giving me the power I desire, the power I need to finish off the Ancient Ones, the power to kill that bitch Shi'nayne."
As he spoke the seal began to appear on his arm and the purple pattern began to spread across his body, his eyes shifting from silver to a red and silver mix.
Mith smiled his Lt. in arms, coming from the top deck. The mirrors tied into the scrying crystals on the hull showing the sun cresting the horizon. He waved his hand over a stone in his consol and the mirror darkened then reverted to a reflective surface. He still preferred the darkness in all his doings. “I t appears small, I believe they have suffered a defeat very recently, they are cautious…. Very cautios.� He replied. The Olath Elemmiire tilted as she turned to avoid disturbing a small encampment in the woods. Jollin’ar now manned the helm, an ever experienced seaman, though still getting used to the thought of his ship “sailing� through the air. Mith turned to face Ten’ru , “I believe Venorik will inform us of the local events soon enough, that is if he truly wants my assistance. Mith finished.
Below the camp stirred, a sorcerer had sensed the flying beast. The spell had been reinforced after the wards had been triggered after the last detection, but nothing was certain. The man roused his fellows and they began to follow in the darkness. The ships slow pace more than easy to match, she wasn’t running from anything.
Sighed slightly as he curled his hands into fists and closed his eyes as he forced the Seal to stop spreading. As the Seal stopped spreading and slowly reveresed he cracked his neck.
"I wish we could get some information now. There are so many villages that need destroying right now. So many innocents to slay...." He twitched slightly as he spoke.
"Sorry about that. That fucking demon is fighting more and more for control ever since I achieved the third seal level. But he is right. By my calculation I only need 600 more added to my list of kills. Then the seal will reach full maturity and I will be able to do what I desire."
He smirked slightly as he sat down, his back against the wall. His arms crossed over on his knees and his head rested on h is arms. "Wake me when you leave or when Ven contacts you." he then looked up to Kenda and motioned for her to sit with him.
Kenda slowly sat up and walked over to Ten, obeying his wishes silently. She had become even more uneasy after seeing the crew of Drow watch her, defintie threat in their eyes. She sat quietly at his side, taking one last glance before starting up with her usual questions. She knew very little at what was happening, but had a feeling if there were precise things she needed to know, Ten would tell her.
Her seal began to burn again. Her hand flew up to the back of her neck where the seal lingered, rubbing it slightly as a desperate attempt to subside the pain. She could feel the same burning feeling spreading a bit and sighed. She hadn't killed in a while so, why was it spreading? Finally, the pain began to lessen and she leaned back in the seat, her arm slowly dropping to her lap. She studied Ten's facial expressions for a moment, sensing a bit of tensity, but not too much. Closing her eyes for a moment, she bluntly asks "How much longer?"
They didn’t know who they were sent by, or for what reason they were told to find this Drow ship. All they knew was that they were meant to get them away from the Dread army. The leader led the group in stealth behind the ship, oddly they didn’t seem to actually have a destination, rather a random set of course changes kept them floating in the sky approximately a mile out of the city. They were dressed as monks, and had few possessions on their bodies, no means of identifying them. Their most valuable possessions…. Their memories and the cheap circlets that sat on their heads as crowns, to protect against prying minds. Quietly the began to chant……..
------------------ Olath Elemmiire--------------------------
Mith sat relaxed in his throne. Jollin’ar had kept the ship away from the clusters surfacers on the surface, all the while maintaining a relative distance from the village. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that they had been spotted. He touched a stone on the ithillid control panel and looked through a small scrying mirror that rose up from the floor. The sunlight hid what his eyes would have seen at night, and so missed the following entourage . he still felt uneasy. “Jollin’ar� Mith barked as he stood. “umy al posh si ders chroar� he commanded. Jollin’ar nodded and the ship began to tilt heavily as she swung about. The Olath Elemmiire would shortly be over the dark mage village……….
Some how the monks kept pace with the ship even thought they did not sun, their chanting becoming louder but not loud enough to cut through the wind passing the drow war ship. The energies that they called forth were almost ready, soon they would sen that ship far out to sea. Let them try to return they would be waiting. As the village came into sight they cast off their cloaks the elves revealed themselves………
Nothing in the underdark is ever quite as it seemed. The drow society flourished when secrets were kept. Secrets ensured power over all who did not know what one knew. Few knew how to get those secrets better than Shea’nin Ischarri.
To the naked eye, it appeared nothing more than a simple, if rather large, stalagmite formation deep in the heart of the house Ayvarth compound. Even the sensitive heat detecting eyes of the dark elves could not see the structure for what it truly was. It was her secret, known to but a hand picked few, and revealed to none other on pain of a very painful death. There was more than one way to protect secrets: tell no one, or kill any who threaten the safety of it. Through the hidden door, revealed only by the touch of those permitted, through dozens of twisting corridors, past minotaur sentinels and countless stair ways lay Shea’nin’s paradise, her hobby of sorts.
Those fiery crimson eyes narrowed with each pathetic scream, and delighted in each twisting new torment she inflicted upon the sickening excuse for a patron. He was a pretty face, past that, she could not tell for what purpose such a lowly creature was placed so highly within the house ranks. However, fortunately his position and his abysmal fighting abilities made him both valuable and easily taken. She had extracted the information she needed form the male. It was easier than she had expected. Honestly, who would have though severing toes could be so persuasive, most required quite a deal more than that. Now Shea’nin was simply enjoying herself at the expense of the weak, and weakened male, as she had been for nearly a tenday.
Again she twisted the blade, wedged between his calf bone and muscle, eliciting another tormented scream before he lost consciousness once more. With her play time foiled once more, she escaped to the study, abandoned for so long now, in the upper chambers of her little secret.
~*~
Her elegant form draped across the velvety upholstered lounge, dimpling the couch as her nails dragged through the many folds of rich fabric. Shea’nin’s face had again taken its usual stern expression, considering the many possibilities of the war emerging. Despite the ramblings of a tortured mind, she hadn’t the proof she needed to offer her aid on the victorious side, yet such an opportunity rarely was provided, could she simply stay to the side, and not benefit? Pondering the possibilities of a double agency, she rose the wine flute to her pursed lips and promptly dropped it, shattering on the floor and staining the expensive fur carpeting.
Her eyes glazed a sickly white and her head was thrown back against the awaiting pillows. Every muscle grew tense, clutching desperately, as if for her very life to the couch below her. Again, the goddess was calling her, whispering promises of power, promising more than she could offer as usual, but none the less, Shea’nin would heed the call.
~*~
Three hours passed before the trance had left the drow. She ached, every over worked muscle exhausted through their three house of constant contraction, but hardly did she head the grinding pain as she rose to ready herself. The task took but a few moments and soon she was clad in her floor length piwafwi armed and packed with a few days rations. She stood before the book case on the far wall of the room, her stormy grey gaze casting along the binds of the many spell books she had acquired. At length, she found the small well worn leather bound book, and thumbed through it’s pages frantically to find the spell she wished.
With a few curt hand motions and whispered words a glistening portal opened before her. With a high chin and confident stride, Shea’nin stepped into the swirling glitters of the magical door way. In mere moments the female stepped into her cabin aboard Mith Kal’Daka’s ship, she had now only to wonder for what purpose she was to come. Her goddess would guide her, she presumed, despite the fact that she knew presumptions most often end in death.
Venorik walked into thee dark mage village with his hood covering his face, Elemmiire still hidden under his large cloak, shielding her from the dreaded sunlight. Many things, all good, had happened to him this past night, Elemmiire and an acceptance of his newfound brother among them. " we're almost there." he whispers to her as they near the dread army headquarters. He spots many boot prints along the road, and wonders if new recruits are here..or possibly, was serendipity here to finish them off? his questionss were answered as he turned the corner. A small band of duergar were standing in front of the dread army building, each one of them in shining armor with axes strapped to their backs. Some of their armor was smooth, other sets were jagged and spiked. Many of them had shining sheilds, with some sort of spiked eye symbol engraved on it. They seemed to be the battle hardened remains of a prosperous clan. " can i help you?" Venorik asks as he approached them, pulling his hood from his face.
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" A drow...you must be with the army. Could you be showin' me the way to the commander,we mighten be joinin' ye." Dimbian says to Venorik, drawing agreeing nods from various members of his group.
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" I am Venorik Vharzyym, commander of the dread army. We welcome you. Theres a parchment in the building there, go ahead and sign your names." He walks into the room before them, quickly taking Elemmiire to the back room and shutting the door behind them. He could hear the dwarves shuffling around in the main room, signing their names and getting into small arguements in line. He sits down on the single bed in the small room, still holding Elemmiire close. " you will be safe here. If anything happens, call to me, i shall come." He kisses her one more time before standing. He could find Mith, and knew his friend was close. With a mental nod to Qee'lakstreea, the portal takes him, transporting his form to the Olath Elemmiire.
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The portal opened in the ship, only a few feet from Mith,and Venorik lightly steps out, the dark cloak flowing behind him like waves. " greetings." he says to the drow, not yet noticing his old partner, Ten Ru. " there was something you wished to discuss?"
Mith walked out of the control chamber and down a corridor, a set of stairs later he was on the outer deck of the Olath Elemmiire heading aft. His movements were causual but at the same time determined, as he moved across the deck. The sails were fluttering slightly ion the breeze. He bagan chanting as he reached the railing his eyes locked onto the group that seemed to be following his invisible vessel. How they could see him did not concern him what did was how to remove them.. soon they would be over the village, soon it would be time… his right hand began to carve intricate symbols into the air, slight trails left the tips showing what might have been runes.
The monks quieted as the drew into the village, the giant beast in the sky they had been coerced into attacking was slowing, perhaps now was a good time… something in the leaders mind twanged as he thought about this, a subservient thought, “why am I doing this?.... but it wasn’t enough. The dominant commands still took precedence as they pushed their minds to the limits. If this worked they would be hero’ if it failed… then death was their reward. As they took their first steps into the village of the dark mages. It was time……………
The sky erupted into swirls of coulor , fire balls and lighting shot back and forth from the ground to the sky. Moments later the huge sword shaped drow warship appeared in the sky not a mere 80 feet off the ground, it invisibility spells disrupted and completely exposed to the world.
…….. it was time….. Miths hands flew up and forward, releasing the hell ball towards the ground, though his hand emediatly resumed there intricate tracings, for even as the ball dove down to the ground other mages added their own spells to the fray…. Mith finished his spell and the air infront of the ship bloomed into a swirling vortex of color before resolving into a hole that appeared to lead into darkness. The true nature of the attack would now never be know, though in the town square the crater would tell all of the battle…..
Mith walked back below decks and and grinned at Venoriks arrival.... "greetings my friend, welcome to the great experiment... the Olath Elemmiire," he said casualy as he sat on the throne... "you have impecable timing ...........( continued in LIth My'athar threads)
((((( sorry for abruptness but we are moving to the proper setting….. mwuaahahahahah all hail the drow.)))))
It was mid day as the hooded party of drow entered the gate of the village. For those giving only a casual glance at the group, they would seem suface dwellers. Most of those under the sun would never imagine dark elves in their midst. But those who payed more attention, they would notice that something was not right. The hair on the back of their necks would stand on end, and they would be afraid. Such was the aura that surrounded the drow when not in hiding.
Kerath was not surprized that Venorik and his friend, Mith, were not at the headquarters when he arrived. He had expected the mysterious Mith to have some private meeting with him to discuss his involvment in the army. Kerath was surprized, however, to see an entire clan of Druegar milling about the building, some sleeping, some eating, some talking, and the rest fighting amongst themselves. "Good," he told Bor'raizok with a slight smile. "Our army's ranks are swelling." The warrior then moved back to where four of his shadows were guarding the semi-concious drow queen. He turns to Xitosh, an older drow who had been Kerath's favorite alchemist behind his brother. "Make sure she cannot escape or regain consciousness until i wish it," he tells the old drow. "I have to check on the new recruits."
Venorik stepped out of the portal in the main room of the dread army headquarters. His steps were silent and his cloak was flowing behind him, even though there was no wind. Many thought his cloak had an enchatnment on it that kept it flowing whenever th drow moved, but it was silmply the grace of his movements. He was happy to see Kerath and some other drow in the room, and glad that the duergar were making themselves comfortable. He felt as though he had gained nothing from his trip to Lith My'athar, but at least knew he was not bluffing, that he had the full intention of requiring loyalty from all the ruling houses of the drow city.
"i see you are back from your journey my friend." he says to Kerath. "I hope it was successful." he looks around the room, eyeing the new drow. If they were with Kerath, they could most likely be trusted. He looks over and spies he queen. " and i see you brought a friend to visit." he adds jokingly, a chuckle in his words. " how nice." He stands and thinks for a second. They couldn't wait very much longer, he needed to start working personally on getting new recruits. He pondered about ten seconds before it came to him. He knew what they needed, what they were now missing. A dragon.
Kerath, almost through the door, spun around slowly upon hearing Venorik's voice. By this time he was well used to his friend popping behind him out of thin air, and was, thus, not surprised like the rest of those in the building. "Very successful indeed," he replies as he finishes his spin and begins walking back the way he had come just seconds before. He could sense the tension in the air, could almost feel the half-dozen knives and hand crossbows about to be shot at Venorik. I didn't matter. His men... and woman, were well trained. They would not try to harm th commander until Kerath gave some sort of signal. His shadows would see his calm and, slowly, calm as well. He spread his arms, encompassing the entire room. "I give you..." He paused for dramatic effect. "... The Shadows of Carnage." A little smile, something blasphemous in itself. It was as if some rule of the multiverse knew such an expression was not meant to be seen upon his face, and was trying with all its might to make it un-so. The smile would seem painful to all of pure heart, for its evil.
"And that." Kerath pointed to the bound and gagged queen, somewhere between consiousness and sleep, lying on the floor between two of his shadows. "That is the great prize of my journey. She, my sister, shall pay for what she did to me!" It was sad that he would not have the time he wanted to torture her, with his responsibilities as sub-commander. Then an idea struck him. He could sense magic, and its users, from some distance. A byproduct of centuries in the close proximity of such powerfully magical beings as demons. They had a wizard. "Bring me the mage that was here!" he shouts to the shadow nearest him. "Lenetra!" He pointed at the priestess, standing in the corner flicking dirt from her fingernails. "Go with him! And begin rehearsing you summoning rituals!" Kerath smiled wider, and the pure darkness of it pained even his subordinates slightly. "If I cannot do the work myself.... I shall have myself a demon." He knew how absurd it was. Trying to control a demon for prolonged spaces of time was dangerous, if not suicidal. But the drow had lost any care for safety. Whatever had happened to him in that palace, whatever had thrown him over the edge of the wall between hate and insanity... he was enjoying it.
Venorik smiled at the tension. No doubt these drow with Kerath were well trained, and he would not strike them, but he almost wished they would have struck at him, just to see the looks on their faces when all their attacks, which would then seem pitiful, were simply cast aside. "greetings." he says to them in a manner similar to the way he spoke to Kerath. "I am Venorik, the commander of this little band." he explains, smirking. Commander of a band that could, even in it's current early stages of power, conquer any kingdom they wanted to at any time they felt convenient, Qee'lakstreea tells him in his mind.
He smirks even wider at Kerath's treatment of his sister. She looked so helpless, so pitiful, bound and half concious, but he could tell she was a beautiful specimen. He also had an idea. More a joke, but something he would follow through with if Kerath agreed. He obviously held no love for his sister, and he knew why. "perhaps i could have her for a bit until the arrangements are completed?" he asks his friend with a chuckle. " I think the queen deserves a little goodbye party." he says. " it would be so fun to mess with her head, would it not?" Qee'lakstreea's sends to Kerath's mind, his voice sounding in the same demonic tones even through telepathy." i shall have my way with her, then bring her. I can keep the demon controlled, do not doubt, but you know i don't like wasting a female...and just for you, my friend, Qee'lakstreea will have his way with her mind. You know not the horrors he can impart, and she will pass into insanity when finally your demon has it's say in her punishment.
"No," Kerath said even before Venorik had finished speaking his offer. "There are ways of torture more heinous than even you, my friend, can even imagine. Yes, you were brutally trained by the Tenar'ri, and you know pain more intimately than almost anyone else alive, but I was tortured, not to strengthen me or train me, but to break me, by demons of Lolth's own personal stock." He clenched his hands at the thought of his imprisonment, blood seeeping through the cracks between his fingers. "At times, when i was at my most wretched, close to finally giving in, the Spider Queen herself would have her way with me." Kerath opened his hands again as his mind returned to the present. "So you see, Venorik, I know ways of torture not meant for this realm of mortals, not meant for this world." The drow smiled once again. "And I want her to be fully sane when the time comes."
Venorik smiled, for that answer was better than any he could have expected..yet, he had expected it, for he knew his friend well. He thought for a minute, then remembered what he needed to do. He would have Balkin set up a rescue for their failed ex-commander Nakaris..he owed the man that much for leaving him such a seat of power, and he had most likely recieved enough punishment. And they needed a dragon. They must own all fields of battle, including the sky, and a dragon or two would make that happen...and a mount, he needed a mount...he would need to search well for a creature fit for him to ride on, something that would strike as much terror upon his enemies as he did. " i'm going out then." he tells Kerath. " i'm gonna go get us a dragon." he added simply, like it was nothing more than another chore. He had no doubt that he would return with one, and he gave a small wave as a portal came once again upon his form.
Sirrenen looked up from the parchment he was reading at his desk in the upper story of the house he had taken for his own. He had finished arranging his belongings and was currently reading one of his texts dealing with Lycanthrops, hoping to find some spell or elixer which could halt or contain his... condition.
"It is customary to knock when entering one's place of residence," he said dryly to the two drow standing in his doorway. "Even armies of darkness can show some civility to its members."
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Lenetra smiled. Looking to her companion she remarked, "Terini'nestg. Usstan orn'la inbal ssiggrin sarcasm zhahus tu'jol l' rivvil dazzan." Turning back to the mage, she looked him over: A bit tall, and broad at the shoulders to be considered beautiful by drow standards, and the hair on his chin irked her slightly. "Natha brou nind morfeth mina ji izznarg phor ghil. Uk orn'la inbal tlus natha bwael jivvin m'ranndii." Still smiling, she waited to see the irritation upon the human's face at being obviously spoken about in another language.
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Now it was Sirrenen's turn to smile. He was an educated man, and took it upon himself to know the languages of many people. "Usstan tlun taudl Usstan tlun naut phor ulu dosst degree d' ssin," he replied, in perfect drow. "So, what is the meaning of this little visit? Unless the army is assembling or I am otherwise needed by the commander, I would prefer to be left alone to continue my studies."
Lenetra let her usual scowl replace the smile on her face. She was getting tired of this man's sarcasm. "Your skills are requested by the sub-commander, oh lycanthropic one," she told the mage, obviously near to giving in to his monthly urges. She had been trained to sense the presence of magical creatures, and this man was practically shouting, "Hey! I'm a werewolf!" to her keen perceptions. "We and the dark weaver are needed for a summoning. Lord Kerath has ordered us to bring him a demon to torture his sister for him." The priestess, waiting for a reply, crossed her arms in front of her chest and shifted her wheight to her left foot. She almost wished he would refuse. She would have fun hurting this one.
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Sirrenen too, let his smile be transformed into a scowl. Was it really that obvious? Was it that easy to tell he was becoming a Lycan? He sighed inwardly. He knew in his heart that he couldn't fight it forever, but to Sirrenen, the once classy, sofisticated gentleman, the idea of running around, eating livestock and other, more sentient, creatures was enough to make his stomach turn.
"if my presence has been requested by the sub-commander, I will gladly report to him," Sirrenen replied sarcastically. He would, of course, go, knowing that angering the second-in-command of a mercenary army would not be a smart thing to do. But, upon hearing the reason for his being called, he paused. "You do know that it will be practically impossible to control a demon of suitable power for the job for any length of time?" he told the priestess, halfway out of his chair. He paused, however, seeing as how she obviously didn't care what his opinion was. The mage shrugged and said, "But he's the boss," and followed the drow back to the dread army headquarters.
Balkin looked at the items he had created over the last couple of weeks. He felt drained to the core, like every ounce of his energy had been poured into the magical objects he had forged. His eyelids felt like they had weights on them, and he could no longer feel his feet, had not been able to feel them for the last few days. A numbing sensation started pouring through his hands now, his body punishing him in it's own way for what he had done, how he had pushed himself mentally and physically. He had took his abilities to the limit, could ask for no more from his magical, clerical, and phychological powers. He had crafted items that could turn the tide of any battle they might happen to be involved in, and he knew that many lay ahead of them all. They had all been crafted for three people, in his mind, the three most powerful beings in the realm: Venorik, Kerath, and himself.
The first item he had crafted was a staff for himself, the item that took the biggest toll on his due to the connection that one such as himself has with his staff. It would be the conduit of all his magical abilities, would amplify their intensity, and would hold and organize all of his spell components to his will. It had been made of pure mithril, and had the orb he had stolen on his trip to the surface as a topper, but he had but a changing spell of disguise on it, where as the staff now looked and felt like a curving wooden staff, and the orb into a wooden carved skull. He couldn't even remember all of the enchantments he had put on it, but anybody, magic user or not, would be able to feel the raw energy emenating from the powerful object.
The second things, or more, things, he had crafted were three rings, Yeneth, Enkyz, and Lioth. All three would shoot out streams of fire upon a command word from their master, and he had made them to have a special connection with the person who would weild them. The intensity of the infernal blasts would be determined by the intensity of the command. The rings would read the emotion behind the command, and attack accordingly. He had made Yeneth for Venorik. The ring had two upward curves coming from the ring on the top, looking like a set of horns. Enkyz had been made for Kerath, with a spike on the top, and Lioth he had made for himself, with downward curves coming from the top. They were all enchanted to be virtually indestructable.
The next items he had made were two weapons for Venorik, both ball and chains. The first, Pentor, name so because of a pentagram on the bottom of the hilt, and the second, arachnor, no so because of the spider emblem of the bottom of the hilt. They both had the symbol of Vharzyym carved on them in the center. The spiked on the balls were also poison tipped, an enchantment he had put on them so the poison would never wear off. He had made two magical pockets to put them in, a time/space pocket, to where they would not be with him until he pulled them out of the pockets.
The items he had crafted after that were two swords of fire. He had made them for Venorik and Kerath, and were what he considered the most visually stunning objects he had ever made. They were mithril hilts, with ridged center grips, and Venorik's, Feten, had curved horns similar to his ring where the blade emits from, and Kerath's, Firon, had two spikes where the blade emits from. The blades themselves were of concentrated fire, giving off no heat or extra light. The blades were perfectly straight, and powerful enough to cut through walls and armor, and to make clean kills. No blood would come from a wound inflicted by these weapons, for the wounds would be burned close by the time the blade was done cutting through.
One of the other items he had forged was a necklace for Kerath, with a pendant of the the symbol of Vharzyym. Upon the activation word, "alach", a forcefield of red webbing would surround whoever is wearing it, able to nullify pretty much anything anybody could launch his way,was as strong as a brick wall, and had the object stick for a second, but it's power was able to be drained, and could only be used so much a day, depending on how long it is used for and how much it deflects. He hadn't made a name for it yet, and decided that it would be Kerath's choice whether to name it or not.
The last items he had crafted were invisible daggers for Kerath. He had made ten of them, perfectly balanced, and enchanted to be virtually indestructable. They would return to their places on the belt he had made for them upon their weilder's will. He couldn't wait to see the the look on the victims face and those of the people around him when they are used.
He was more proud of the items, mostly weapons, than enything else he could remember being proud of. He could only imagine how much they would be worth, especially after they are seen with the people who will control them. The sight of them would strike fear into anyone who was not allied with Vharzyym, and that fact made him smile as he fell to the ground where he stood, in the deepest slumber he had ever known.
Once again, a black portal opened up in front of the dread army headquarters. It formed from a point the size of a pin, and in an instant grew large enough to fit a dragon through...which, in fact, it was. Venorik strolled out, a couple of leaves from the jungle blowing behind his long,flowing cloak. He kept the portal open behind him, Qee'lakstreea would close it when Annoth was done walking through. He walked up to the dread army headquarters, but held that name no longer, he realized as he opened the door. It was the Vharzyym headquarters. The headquarters of the single most powerful force on this plane. He looks to all of the Duergar who filled the main room as he entered, and most of them just nodded to him, knowing who he was. Only one spoke to him: Dimbian Hatchetskull. " Your orders, M'lord?" he asked with a typical dwarven accent, one that not even a subterranean life could destroy. Venorik smiled. Lord. He could get used to that. "Keep watch over the perimeter. Keep it secured with two gaurds directly on station at the door at all times, and a host of three semi-alert at all times. Nobody is to go outside. Kerath is busy, so for now your in charge of this garrison. If you do well you will stay in charge. If Kerath is to come by, tell him of these orders, and tell him that I will return again soon. I have one more matter of business."
With that he walked outside once again. Another portal spawns in front of him, and on the other side he could feel nothing. A soothing nothing. No wind. No sound. Nothing. The nothingness that is the underdark. The nothingness that...is?no, was, his home. Venorik entered the nothingness with a smile, and his eyes switched to the infrared spectrum as his eyes cleared the black sphere.
Balkin awoke with Qee'lakstreea's voice booming in his skull, telling him of their plans. Cursing, he started to stand up, but his eyes froze as they came over his creations. They were beautiful. Bred for one purpose:to kill. To solidify the power of Vharzyym, it's leaders, it's soldiers. He had no doubt that soon they would be sitting in seats of untouchable power. Smiling, he gathers them and puts them in a pack. He still had things to do. He needed some ingredients. Breaking an organ in his hands, he moved them in a circle, creating a portal similar to Venorik's, and walks through to the jungle. "ironic." he says to himself.
Kerath looked up from the Duergar slumped against the way in front of him, taking his eyes away from the beautifully executed dagger wounds in the dwarf's eye sockets that he had made upon finding the soldier sleeping at its post. There was no room for apathy within his army.
"Can you do it?" he asked immediately to Lenetra and Sirrenen as they walk up to him, the other drow accompaning them moving to the room where the rest of the Shadows were resting after their long journey through the Underdark.The words "I doubt" had just left the human's mouth as Kerath spoke again, not caring in the slightest about their opinions. "Send for me when the glabrezu has been summoned," he said authoratively, turning around to carry out another needed errand.
"A glabrezu?!" Sirrenen asked, for the first time since arriving losing his composure.
"Yes. I wasn't aware that I stutter," Kerath replied coldly.
"But... but controlling one within a summoning circle is difficult enough. Letting roam freely upon the material plane is suicide!"
"This topic is not up for debate, human." Kerath walked up to Sirrenen and spoke softly but menacingly up to the taller man. "Our roles here are very simple. I give orders; You follow them... Unquestioningly. If you use that tounge of yours in that way again, i will take it from you." It was clear that the discussion was over to all as they parted; Sirrenen and Lenetra to prepare for their summoning, and Kerath to speak with the leader of the Duergar, to inform him of how he wanted the patrols to be organized.
The golden sun made her black fur turn a goldish-brown color. Her muscles rippled beneath the hair as she tred across the dusty ground. Adara's hazel eyes were set upon a small building. The Dread Army's headquarters. Or, past HQ. Though she didn't know it yet, she wouldn't be joining the Dread Army at all.
As Adara came closer to the building, she spotted guards patrolling the area. She sat on her haunches before the building, staring at the guards. They watched her akwardly. She wasn't surprised. Well, she was after all a black wolf just sitting there. The guards moved in on her but as they came nearer, they froze and fell to the ground. She had used a powerful stunning spell on them that she had learned as a child. Adara sat for a few more moments before turning into her usual human form and leaned against for the building's outer wall, thinking before going in. She leaned there for about five minutes, letting someone approach her before she approached them.
(Sorry, I'm not exactly the longest poster :roll: )
The sun was setting, casting an unearthly glow upon the settlement that was the dark mage village. The time of the sun would end. No longer would it's burning rays cast pain upon the creatures that roamed during the time of power. The time weaklings called night, the time true warriors called beautiful, comfortable. Home. Wolves waited in anticipation for this time. They lurked on the outside of the village, staying in the shadows until the moon's light would shimmer into their eyes. Finally it's rays stopped shining in their area, had passed the city. They remained in the background, keeping the area lighted, but there was no direct light. The wolves started off towards the inhabited village. Saliva poured from their mouths, bloodlust haunted their eyes. Suddenly they froze, all of them in eerie unison. The hairs on their back rose into the air as they all turned to look. One of them urinated on itself, wetting it's fur. The others ran.
Venorik Vharzyym walked through the clearing between the village and the forests surrounding it. His form made no noise as it moved through the terrain. If it weren't for his long flowing cloak, few would have noticed him....that is, until their eyes left him and fell upon the legion that followed him. Fifty drow warriors, in full armor which oddly made no noise yet was as detailed and perfectly crafted as any that had ever touched the surface. But that was it, these were not from the surface, the uncivilized yet merciful surface which would now become their home. They were the elite gaurd of house Vharzyym, the followers of Venorik. Not one of them had seen the passing of less than two hundred years. They marched in unison, their sheilds at their front, a double bladed staff across their back and daggers at their hips. Although they were in unison, Venorik walked of his own accord. He smiled as he entered the city, at the looks upon everyone's face as he passed. They knew what was to come. Those who were not convinced by the drow were convinced by even more who followed. Small, lizard-like humanoids scrambled behind. Those who had the mind to count would come up with almost two hundred of the treacherous kobolds who carried shoddy swords and daggers.. The slaves and fodder of Vharzyym. Each one carried sacks full of treasure. Coins, art, anything of value. The fortune of house Vharzyym, which stood no more. With it's weapons master gone and the elite gaurd and slave force gone with him, the house was dispatched of easily by another house within the drow society.
They moved through the streets, Venorik's eyes scanning the area from under him pulled up hood. As they came up to the Vharzyym headquarters, which they had confiscated from the dismantled dread army, Qee'lakstreea summoned Kerath. " Come, brother. See what gifts i have brought for our conquest." the demon sends to the warmaster's mind in Venorik's voice. As they reached the front of the building Venorik brough the hoard to a stop. "Right Face!" he orders them. Each of the drow warriors turned in perfect unison, keeping the shields with the Vharzyym symbol glorified onto it in full color. Venorik smiled. He had returned. He noticed the intruder upon the premises, but decided she of no current threat and would be dealt with after he spoke to Kerath.
(Holy crap, I'm POSTING! This is the most amazing thing since when that one guy did this one thing and then something happened! omgzorz b1sh!)
An immense, bat-like dragon emerged from the portal moments after Venorik, the telltale rumble of her clawed feet dragging across the ground alerting most every being nearby of her presence, whether she wanted it or not. Directly in front of her was a decently-sized structure, strikingly different from the poorly-constructed shacks and barns she was used to seeing. The surrounding area was littered with armed men, exchanging small-talk, patrolling the area, and a few frozen in place like statues, most noticeably the two at what Annoth assumed was the entrance to the building. While Venorik was taking care of business, Annoth surveyed the premises with the task of finding something edible in mind, friendly village or not. First things first, her head swiveled to the left. Armored guards, fortress-like buildings, no immediately evident trace of any healthy plant-life. Now to the right - more armored guards, more buildings, more barren cityscape. Nothing ye - wait... what's that?
Annoth spotted a black wolf, just sitting there close to where she emerged from the portal. It looked awfully out of place out here. Don't wolves like light and water and small rodents and, dare she say, life? What's more, most of the guards that approached it fainted, obviously not of natural means. But no. It wasn't a wolf. The 'wolf' became human in what seemed like the blink of an eye and moved to lean against the wall of the building, apparently waiting for someone. Annoth hadn't even been following Venorik for an hour and already she's seen shapeshifters, wolf-men, men with skin darker then she thought a human's skin could get and a demon child. This was turning out to be one "interesting" trip.
Operation Find-Something-To-Eat had already faded from Annoth's short memory as she leaned slightly closer to the shapeshifter to get a better look, but she was interrupted by the sound of marching soldiers, accompanied by a good deal of other sounds she couldn't identify. Annoth curved her neck a bit more to face the sounds, her body still not having moved from it's original position, and was met with the sight of Venorik, a long row of soldiers and packs of scuttling miniature animal-human hybrids. Looks like he was preparing for a battle. It would explain why he went through the trouble to get her out of the old mine - A little relieving, too, as Annoth was actually beginning to worry that all he wanted her to do was stand around and look expensive while he curried favor with the local throne. That’s the end of that big mystery. And now back to… uhh… standing around and looking expensive. Damn, she was bored.
Adara's eyes shot from the large army to the large dragon. She wasn't certain which seemed more interesting. Her hands raised to about a foot inches away from her face as she checked out her nails. This seemed rather strange behaviour for what was happening around her. Waiting for anyone to approach her, she lowered her hand and sighed as is there was nothing interesting around her.
As the army and their apparent leader came closer, Adara stood straighter. She remembered something like this when she was a young child. Every year, she and her father would sit on the side of the road and an army and their leader would march through the small village and the leader would accompany a few other people into a large fort-like building. They would come out later and announce something to the village. Though she couldn't remember what, Adara did remember the villagers would either cheer, gasp, or some other kind of expression. After that, they would all return to where they once were and return to their lives.
As they drew ever nearer, she stretched and leaned against the wall again. Would they ignore her like the army and leader from her rememberance did when they marched by?
Kerath had just finished speaking with one of the duergar leader's subalterns when he heard Venorik's, or rather, Qee'lakstreea's voice, in his mind, beckoning him to see what Venorik had brought for their army. He had guessed the purpose of the overlord's absence, but could not be sure of the amount of warriors Venorik would bring. Venorik had been weapons master of their former house, and commanded great loyalty from the house soldiers, but it was difficult to tell how many would heed his call. Walking out towards where the telepathic summons had come from, twin golden dragon-head brooches on his shoulders glinting in the last rays of the sun, Kerath noticed a human female leaning against the wall, examining her fingernails. The woman looked harmless enough, but the warrior knew that she had some hidden danger, for no one could possibly stand so indifferently so near a nexus of evil such as Vharzyym without some dark strength or power. Kerath assumed she was here to join the army, and made a mental note to speak with her after he had examined the "gifts" Venorik had brought.
As Kerath looked forward once again he saw it: House Vharzyyms elite guard and some two hundred kolbolds, each carrying a sack of the house's fortune. At the head of this impressive force walked Venorik, cape billowing behind him.
"what, no priestesses for your harem?" he joked as he stepped up to the drow. He looked over the soldiers and their loot with feigned dissapointment. "You must be slipping in your old age."
Venorik raised an eyebrow, then enjoyed a hearty laugh, followed by a smirk. Qee'lakstreea heeded, and Venorik looked back as four priestesses came from the back of the group, wearing a different, yet no less impressive armor, even though there was, as was most drow female's clothing, much, much less of it. " The only ones i could salvage." he says jokingly. " Old age my ass, i'm only..." he jokingly counts by hundreds on his fingers and stops when his fingers get to nine, then laughs again. He actually wasn't sure, but knew it was somewhere between nine hundred fifty and twelve hundred. Qee'lakstreea knew. He had stopped counting during his years in the abyss. " Tonight, we relax." he says with a smile. " the warriors need to let off some steam, as do we. We haven't taken a break since we came to the surface." Turning around, he raises his arms to him followers. " lil'alure!" He yells to them, which his followed by cheers. Tonight the surface would see how a real party went about. Tonight, they would see the drow." Get it started." he tells Kerath, then motions toward the woman. " You deal with her."
Gazing at Kerath, she sighed. Everyone looked so tough and different. Well, Adara thought, if they need armor then that's their problem. Rolling her eyes, Adara stood and took a step away from the wall. She crossed her arms and leaned her weight on her left foot.Adara's chin stuck up slightly as he gestured towards her. She tapped her fingers on her arms and looked from Venorik to Kerath. Sighing, she waited a few more seconds before saying, "Well..."
Adara took to a tree and rested her head against it in boredom and impatience. Her hazel eyes looked around. The day was now almost evening and the sky turned a pink, orange, and blue color. There was a hazy shadow on the ground behind her that showed her slim body and the tree. She turned and looked at Annoth. Her shadow was much larger than Adara's. She waited there for a few minutes more for Kerath to 'deal' with her.
Balkin stepped into his makeshift magical house he had made by the Vharzyym heaquarters. He had been searching for spell compnents for a long while, a few hours he supposed, and finally had what he needed. Moving to set them out from his extradimensional pack, he noticed all the comotion outside. With a peak outiside he saw a party at full blast, seemingly containing many drow, all whom he noticed were warriors, most likely good ones. Many townsfolk had also entered the fray, and it seemed an entire block was nothing but a celebration of Vharzyym. if only they knew, Silinrul said to him telepathically from the lizard's perch on his master's shoulder. The dark weaver smiled to himself knowingly. As much as he'd love to, he couldn't deter his plans with such simple minded tendencies. Closing the door, he walked back to the table that sat against the opposite wall, then started emptying the contents on it in a very orderly fashion. Plants, organs, minerals, and many other assorted things were included in the wizard-cleric's plans. Taking off his robes, he hangs them from the ceiling and begins his communion with the goddess of spiders.
Kerath nodded in aknowledgement. "What of the other soldiers?" he asked before leaving to speak with the woman. "The Duergar and the others who have been recruited. Should they be a part of this celebration?" The area around Kerath was becoming more and more busy by the second, with fairie fire and other drow magic being summoned to add to the party, some soldiers already beginning to dance. "I will need half the dwarves and all the kolbolds to begin construction of the defenses, and maybie two of my shadows to keep a patrol around the village." Knowing that there was little time to waste and that Qee'Lak'streea would inform him of Venorik's answers, Kerath turned and walked over to the woman, glancing with a slight smirk at the two stunned guards. "No matter," he told himself. "But one will have to be killed for their lack of weariness for strangers."
The drow stepped up in front of the woman, examining her for a second. "i am Kerath Vharzyym S'liston Bor'vizzmyyl, warmaster of the Vharzyym army of darkness. I am formerly of the dread army, but as you can see, we are beyond that pitiful organization. If you are wishing to join, follow me so we can formalize your recruitment."
Venorik went straight from giving the command to joining in the celebration himself. Qee'lakstreea gave Kerath permission to go through with anything the warmaster saw fit as the Supreme Overlord of Vharzyym joined in the party of his followers, of his army, of his legacy. His bliss was as absolute as it could be outside of battle. He knew, watching his army, which could only become stronger, that his dreams would become reality. Moreso than could ever have been in the underdark, where the beings were strong and the terrain brutal, the surface realm would be his for the taking. Beings would tremble upon hearing the name Venorik, and the same repitition would fill his followers' hearts with pride. Maybe they would have trouble, perhaps the entire realm would ally against them, but he knew that there would be no death for Venorik and Kerath Vharzyym S'liston Bor'Vizzmyyl, that there could only be setbacks,and in the end, fun.
A month after the party initiating the army in full, Silinrul flittered quickly across the adamantine wall surrounding the Vharzyym compound. It wasn't even halfway finished, but it was still a grand and ornate thing, taking up more space than all but the highest ranking houses in the underdark. He had to report to his master, Balkin, High Priest of Vharzyym, and he couldn't afford to be late in delivering his report. He had some ground left to cover before he got to the chapel - which Balkin had made sure was completed with priority, and was done for the mostpart - and being a chameleon, he had to move as fast as possible to cover adequate distance. Everywhere he went was construction. Duergar working the stone, mages enchanting it, artists sculpting, carving painting, and unending myriad of splendor that would signify the might of Vharzyym. Two such artists eyed him as he skittered through the chapel door, running directly to Balkin and moving up the drow's body to rest on his shoulders. " It seems that progress is at full." he says in the dark weaver's ear. " Here and in the village. Our hold is secure in all aspects. I recently met with our..businessmen, and all is also well there. Overwhelmingly so. Venorik also be happy to hear that recruiting is in action, and an estimated 300 able bodies will be ready for the first class of the academy when is is finished."
Balkin smiled as the information spilled into his mind. Not one drop of bad news. Waving silinrul on to his rest, he walked out of the chapel to meet with Venorik, in the almost-complete throne hall on the first floor, where the supreme overlord was already taking council with outsiders involved with the house.
From his vantage point some thirty feet above the top of the unfinished Vharzyym palace, standing only three stories so far, Kerath had a spactacular view of Zantaric. His gaze moved along the wooden wall surrounding the village, now almost half-replaced with adamantine stolen from his and Venorik's old city. The northern side was completely replaced, with the west and east growing larger every day. Kerath smiled. It had been a month since construction had begun, and they were progressing even faster than hoped for. It seemed the warmaster had underestimated his Duergar associates.
Slowly, as his levitation spell began to fade, Kerath floated to the ground, landing in front of what would become the grand entrance of the Vharzyym headquarters. "At this rate, the building will be ready for use in three or four months," he thought. "Then the academy will finally begin to give me soldiers." It was strange, Kerath had lived for hundreds of years, with hundreds still ahead of him. A few months had never seemed long to him at all. But this... This was different. Soon Vharzyym would be ready, and the drow realized that those dozen or so months before the conquest would truly begin would be the longest of his life.
Silently, Kerath stepped along the path, workers rushing ot get out of his way, toward the shack that had been their base of operations for the past few months. The shack would continue to act as Vharzyym's headquarters until the citadel was built and furnished. As he stepped inside, his gaze wandered to the scorch mark on the wall to his left, igniting a foul taste in his mouth. Only weeks ago, Lenetra and the lycan mage had succeeded in bringing Kerath a glabrezu to torture his sister while Kerath was working on preparing his army. Soon after, the drow was informed that the demon had pushed to hard, and killed his prisoner. Furious, Kerath had banished the glabrezu back to the abyss, and killed three of Venorik's warriors in blind rage. Now, he had begun to get over his defeat, but the sight of the burnt wood still made his eyes simmer with anger. Seeing one of his shadows cleaning his weapons at the small bar, he asked, "Where is Venorik? I need to speak with him of our plans."