Venorik walked out of the dark mage village with a blank expression on his face, hiding the truth of the turmoil he had been sent into. After all these years, he found that one of his brothers yet lived, and had been hunting him down for the better part of two hundred years. He had been certain the attack was flawless when he had killed his family upon returning from the abyss. The wrath of the third son of house Delgo was mighty, but with Qee'lakstreea the destruction was complete. He had not left a single living being in the complex, and that, of course, was where he erred those hundreds of years ago. His brother,Balkin, was not there at the time, but was studying in the arcane arts to eventually become the dark weaver he was today, the dark weaver Venorik had battled and easily defeated but an hour ago. His brother's training was revered, but it could not compete with Venorik's upbringing in the abyss, his brutal training at the hands of Galloth...and of course, he had Qee'lakstreea. The demon in his body and blades, which were now almost one, had never once failed him. He could feel the energy within him, the balor headed hilts of the swords of Qee'lakstreea ready to come from inside his arms at a moments notice. Not that they were in his arms, thats just where the essence exited his body and solidified into the abyss-crafted blades.
He was calmed by the serenity of the place, the exact reason he had come here. So many thoughts ran through his mind at once, he couldn't truly focus on anything when he tried to sort them out, at least not back in the village, where the responsibilty of being the commander of the dread army was constantly calling to him. Here, in the forest outside the village, he could find peace, could finally ease his thoughts. He wandered through the seemingly endless forest, doing exactly that, wandering wherever his feet took him as he dove into the reaches of his mind. Finally he found what he was looking for, the key to it all. Lolth had sent Balkin after them so they could be united as brothers of chaos, to whatever end. Balkin, with the usual drow information sources, discovered that Venorik had killed his family, not knowing it was also Venorik's, and misenterpreted Lolth's orders into that of a hunt to kill. He kept walking aimlessly though the woods, piecing together the puzzle that was dominating his mind.
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Elemmiire peered through the branches of a nearby tree watching this knight of sorts wander throughout the forest, climbing from limb to limb, tree to tree when the wind's rustling would mask the sounds of her movement. She wasn't clad in her usual attire, instead today she wore a mere deerhide waist wrap and her flint hunting dagger. Her face was covered in drying mud and leaves littered her grey locks as they blew in the gentle zephyr. Like a cat stalking it's prey, she deftly sprawled out on a nearby branch as he neared her, crossing her arms at the wrists awaiting his arrival. A ferral smirk caressed her plump lips and she readied herself for the strike.
Diving from the camoflauge of the limbs, Elemmiire wrapped her left arm around his middle and her right around his neck, taking him to the ground. Her unclothed chest pressed against his back, she twisted a leg around his in an attemp to hold him immoble as she gripped for her dagger.
