Venorik woke up in his quarters, and in his bed he remained, sitting upright still under his sheats gold threaded sheats. He simply sat. There was nothing to entertain him at the moment, nothing to occupy his time. No enemy sat in another kingdom, challenging in any way. No prisoners to interrogate. The only thing he had to look forward to was the completion of the sickness. He had to smile as thought flooded through his head, visualizing the effects it would have upon the area, the region. Vith, he thought to himself, the world as a whole. He wondered momentarily whether or not it would traverse planes, infecting the astral, the abyys, the demonwebs. He could not know. He could not even know whether or not it would spread to the other kingdoms, though he was quite positive that it would. It had to. Finally, after an hour or two, he kept no track of time while in thought, or very often at all anymore, he decided to get out of bed. Slowly the Supreme Overlord rolled out, standing nude in his bedroom. Looking to the side, he noticed that the door leading to his main quarters was slightly cracked. The priestess had left it open, again, as she let herself out the previous night. For that act of disrespect, she would not be invited to his bed again. Certainly she would be flustered by such a harsh punishment, but he would pay it no mind; he had many others to choose from.
Bending down next to his bed, he picked up his enchanting leather leggings that went down to right above his knees and slid them on, followed by the matching leather vest. They felt so familiar....he had always worn them. Since coming to the prime material, they had been on his body whenever he left the protection of his quarters. He then made his way to his dressing room. Sifting through his collection of robes, all heavily enchanted and providing more protection than a full set of platemail, while being made of almost priceless combinations of materials, he found the one he would wear this day. Red, gold, and black, of course having the spider-skull emblem, the heralding symbol of Vharzyym, S'liston Bor'vizzmyyl, embroidered in a flashy manor all over the garments. Around it he put on his belt, heolding more items in the extradimensional pockets than he felt like counting, but including his matching flails, his choking gas and light vials, and his dual hand-crossbows with plenty of ammo to replace its exploding rounds. He did not even think of forgetting the dagger wrist and ankle-bands, holding ten small daggers in each of the four peices of leather. He then put his large, flowing red cape over his shoulders, with the vharzyym insignia emblazoned across it. He was ready for the day.
As he approached his throne in the main hall of house Vharzyym, many things happened. First, he saw the line of people waiting to hold council with him. Second, one of his laboratory advisors came to his side, explaining that the sickness was progressing amazingly and would be done within the month, a couple of weeks if all stays on shedule. Third, he noticed than Kerath was not among his men in the hall, which was odd. He didn't think anymore of it. Kerath could do what he wished.
And so his day went, with nothing truly important to him happening, as every day had been since he stragetically withdrew his forces from Essyrn, taking with him a horde of wealth.
"All praise the queen of spiders." Balkin said to his familiar, knowing that soon, more exctiment would come for his brother, who was seemingly becoming bored with his uneventful station of power as ruler of a lone Zantaric.
