Power and Position.

[Vasriina Frerahel]

[color=red:18mfbgah][b:18mfbgah]((FINALLY, a break from college, and now I will be able to start an RP, something we have gone without for a very long time.[/b:18mfbgah]

[b:18mfbgah]Well, this RP will be taking place in Menzoberranzan, home to us Spider Kissers So naturally all our characters will be speaking Drow tongue, even though OBVIOUSLY we will be typing english. Anyways, feel free to join the RP, just because our characters are slighty...slightly I say, evil Doesn't mean we will bite ya, well not too hard at least. We are friendly people, trust me. All these characters inside created by us are work of Fiction, and our active imaginations. So, don't take anything seriously or offensively, please. If we don't make sense feel free to criticize us, we would really appreciate it. It will help us get better. Like, I said before Feel Free to Join in our little game...))[/color:18mfbgah][/b:18mfbgah]

oOC[color=black:18mfbgah][b:18mfbgah]{Now, for my character Vasriina's opening. Since, I haven't been around in awhile, I guess I'll start it off storylike/historical...}[/color:18mfbgah][/b:18mfbgah]



[color=olive:18mfbgah]+'Menzoberranzan', a city of sinister beauty and prestige whose people matched equally in its demeanor, a metropolis full of egotism and superiority, and every action taken must serve a valuable purpose, in the name of one. ‘Menzoberranzan’ was home, to the dark, “spider queen” Lolth and her loyal Drow. Her word was law. Powerful Drow ‘Houses’ dwelled within the city, these families were the ones that enforced her word and they were as harsh and unmerciful as she. Such a ‘House’ lived up to it, bestowed with a high priestess and three additional clerics. They formed a most dominant family quickly ascending into the ranks. This ‘House’ would be known as ‘House Frerahel’, which translates to ‘Friends with the gods’. +

+Within the Noble Area, ‘House Frerahel’ was located nearest to the end of the district. Its architecture was a magnificent sight indeed, large and looming. The entire house could be seen with the delicate glow of rock pellets. The building’s symmetry was precise. Its exterior was delineated with intricate designs of Drow religion and symbolic meanings. Ornate charms served as eyes and weapons for certain characters. The entrance to the lavished abode of ‘House Frerahel’ was guarded by a towering gate, at the pinnacle of the entryway formed a shape of an ominous spider encircling a large gemstone, within the treasure was the inscribed letter ‘F’. Life could be heard within the courtyard.+

+Her stride was confident as she approached the center of the square, body swaying from side-to-side in a proud, enticing manor. The delicate brightness within “Menzoberranzan” painted shadows across her face. Vasriina Frerahel, the first and most authoritative daughter born to the Matron Felynthrae Frerahel and her previous consort Vazriin. Vasriina’s hair was uncommonly let down, her sleek tresses cascaded about her shoulders to the narrow of her back. Vasriina was clothed in a simple, white garment that tied behind her neck. Her back lay bare, while her neckline dipped low. It was purposely cut to tighten around the waist and hips. The fabric flowed about her long, shapely legs, caressing her ankles. Two slits ran down the side of the garb, revealing just enough of her thighs and calves. Vasriina appeared to be barefoot. Her step was slight and unheard, the cold from the stone coursed through her toes.+

+ In the center of the courtyard, the design of a great, outstretched spider was engraved into the floor below, a renowned symbol for her beloved goddess. Vasriina arrived at her destination, halting just before the ornate carving. Her charming features were emotionless, and lay undisturbed. Her mesmeric stare was intense and focused simply upon her opponent before her. She tightened her slender fingers around the long, wood staff within her right hand. +[/color:18mfbgah]




[color=black:18mfbgah]oOC[b:18mfbgah]{Meh. I guess, it will suffice. lol.}[/color:18mfbgah][/b:18mfbgah]

[Xunrak Frerahel]

[font=Times New Roman:2fucofpc][b:2fucofpc]>He stood calmly, unmoving, almost statuette. His solemn gray eyes followed the movements of Vasriina as she made her way across the courtyard, mirroring everything in his stare. Far above from where Vasriina stood were Xunrak and Matron Frerahel, she was seated in an elaborate chair, while he stood beside her. It reminded him of a throne meant for a queen. Suppose she was, for Matron Frerahel held herself that way. Her gaze was serious, always seeming to be calculating, even if nothing was happening. Those gray eyes were always scheming. Xunrak turned slowly towards his Mother’s face, a sculpture, ageless, ideal. For she was beautiful, yet vile, Xunrak knew that one day her intentions would destroy him. Nevertheless obediently, he continued to always stand beside her.<


>Xunrak felt miniscule to his Mother. Her gown and headdress radiated power and position, leaving him to feel helpless against her. Her image was so wrought with authority, that he dare not cross her, just the slightest gesture from her made him nervous. Matron Frerahel must have sensed his eyes upon her for she gave him a sideways glance, arching one brow in its wake. She motioned for him to come nearer. Xunrak stepped forward, beside his Mother. She scooped up his hand, this caught him by surprise. Slowly, softly, almost motherly in fact she began to caress his fingers, toying with his golden band placed on the ring finger. A ring, given to him when her first entered the Academy, it was skillfully crafted and bore the House insignia, to represent where he came from. <[/size:2fucofpc][/font:2fucofpc][/b:2fucofpc]


[color=darkred:2fucofpc][font=Times New Roman:2fucofpc][b:2fucofpc]“My precious,Xunrak. One day, you shall be strong enough to do what your sister’s do. You will see in a moment, what I am speaking of. When that time comes, Brizmice, will be your opponent, yes she is much older than you are, but you will be more powerful. I guarantee it. Especially, when you shall be Delphine’s. You will prove yourself to me, and tell me you are worthy to be in this family. You will strip her of her honor and pride. I want this to come about. Xunrak, in time you will prove useful to House Frerahel, more than your sister Brizmice ever will, do not disappoint me. Remember this, my little wizard, my precious, Xunrak.”[/color:2fucofpc][/size:2fucofpc][/font:2fucofpc][/b:2fucofpc]


[font=Times New Roman:2fucofpc][b:2fucofpc]>Her words, her voice echoed in his head repeatedly. None of what she said made sense to him, how could he one day be more valuable than his elder sister Brizmice, a cleric? Delphine? Matron Frerahel spoke it so quickly, he was uncertain if he even heard her correctly. Whom his Mother referred to only puzzled him. Though, nothing his Mother said to him made any sense, he seemed to be such an infant still. Even though he was in his adolescent years, he held the vulnerability of a child. Only later, will he understand, naturally, that is how it always is. He only wished to know what greater purpose was he meant for. Maybe then he could prepare for his fate. Until then, he did not let himself linger on it for too long. Xunrak did not want to contemplate it just yet. While holding his hand still, Matron Frerahel lifted her garnished arm upward, flicking her fingers in the direction of the court.<[/font:2fucofpc][/size:2fucofpc][/b:2fucofpc]


[color=darkred:2fucofpc][font=Times New Roman:2fucofpc][b:2fucofpc]“Begin.”[/font:2fucofpc][/color:2fucofpc][/size:2fucofpc][/b:2fucofpc]

[Priestess Iymlin]

oOC[b:2q5mfxm0]{Yay! Vasriina. Hm. Let's hope this one will last a little longer. Now, let me begin typing my intro. -Fingers crack due to rigor mortis- I've been dead. Let's hope the brain still works! }[/b:2q5mfxm0]



[color=darkblue:2q5mfxm0][font=Times New Roman:2q5mfxm0]- -From the shadows she watched Vasriina make her way towards the center of the square. A coy smirk played across her lips. Her face harbored a mocking expression as she quietly, scoffed at Vasriina. Tawny eyes burned into her rival, as if she could pierce and raze her very essence. Jealousy, greed, loathe all looked to be the perfect word to describe her gaze, but only she knew what was truly within. She was leaned against the stone wall surrounding the courtyard, her slender arms crossed before her. Snatching the wood staff next to her, she lifted away from the wall and made her own way forward, leaving behind the comforting embrace of darkness. Iymlin Frerahel, second and most manipulative daughter born to Matron Frerahel and her previous lover Vazriin, whom also was the father of Vasriina. A father Iymlin never met. It was obvious that Vasriina was the more favored daughter of Matron Frerahel and their goddess, a choice she questioned daily. - -

- -For one day, Vasriina will be granted the title of Matron, something Iymlin believed should be rightfully hers and deserving. Iymlin strove to surpass and be greater than her elder sister. She desired that Vasriina to be ‘removed’ from natural succession, in any manor possible, though she dared not gamble it herself for she would only provoke greater disfavor with both powerful figures. Iymlin was matched in dress with Vasriina, hair let down and clothed in the same white garb. It seemed to be symbolically meant for dueling. As she neared closer to the center, she looked upward slightly towards Matron Frerahel and Xunrak. Even though they seemed so distant, she could sense that intimidating stare from her Mother, scrutinizing her and her sister. Gray eyes that could soothe you, and yet kill you. She switched her gaze to Vasriina once more. Then they met, either of them on each side of the spider. A thought swiftly crossed her mind. [i:2q5mfxm0] ‘Time. It has seemed to continue so quickly, even if I have stopped, and wish it stay. As a child, never did this moment ever come to mind. What changed it? Vasriina and myself. What changed it?’[/i:2q5mfxm0]- -

- -Confusion, for only a moment as she hesitated. Then once more that famous expression returned to her face, an angelic face that only accentuated its passionate, fury. How idiotic she must have briefly appeared, silly thought should better stay away. Face to face, Vasriina and Iymlin stood. Linking their eyes to one another. A connected stare that almost seemed to last forever. Iymlin tilted her head slightly as she cocked her brow, toying with her. A slight giggle. She knew that Vasriina would not respond to her, she never did. Her sister was so serious. Then that simple word, spoken by their Mother sounded like thunder in that quiet moment. Iymlin reacted so quickly for the word only seemed to have just fallen off the lips of Matron Frerahel. Iymlin would make the first move. - -

- - Iymlin brought both her hands around the base of the wood staff, tightening her grip so it would not fall from her fingers. She extended one foot forward, lifting off her heel. She spun upon her toes to quickly, pirouette. Her brow furrowed downward in concentration, as she gathered some of her energy into the swing, clenching her teeth. Iymlin’s body bent slightly, her chin resting in the crook of her collarbone and shoulder, as she twisted her arms into a batting position. The staff came round, harsh and quick, like an ax to a tree. It unmercifully sliced through the air, producing a wind, as it aimed for the side of Vasriina’s torso. - -[/color:2q5mfxm0][/font:2q5mfxm0][/size]

[Vasriina Frerahel]

[color=olive:211uwmvu]+Vasriina looked intently at Iymlin, watching her advance. She flaunted the attitude she always held, full of sensuality, mischievousness. The aura resonating from Iymlin was strong, her emotions burned into her, everything Iymlin held against Vasriina stabbed away, like daggers. This was normal. Vasriina was accustomed to it all, Iymlin was so irrational, and impulsive, passionate about her cause that it was her greatest weakness. She was completely opposite of Vasriina, they made up two sides of a coin. As Iymlin walked to the center of the ring, Vasriina noticed her glance in the direction of their audience, Mother and Xunrak. She found her own eyes slowly, veering towards them. For just a moment, those emerald pools drowned them both in their fathomable, cold depths. +


+A show that is all it was to her, Matron Frerahel, watching her two daughters dueling, and overpowering the another. Stripping one of their prides, quietly, unspoken defeat that was brutal and unmerciful. One would arise, while the other fell. Neither would die, but realizing that you lost and lived was worse than the defeat itself. To only endure the psychological words of Matron Frerahel afterwards. Vasriina then looked at the youthful face of Xunrak, quiet and blank of expression. A submissive male child, perfect in the eyes of society, their mutual bond to one another was bizarre. A brother she respected but did not “love”. A shadow of nervousness crossed his features as Matron Frerahel held his hand, speaking words to him unknown. Vasriina’s eyes narrowed slightly in curiosity at her brother’s perplexity. +


+Vasriina returned her stare to Iymlin, who now stood before her with that sarcastic face. She knew that Iymlin only toyed with her, yearning for a reaction, but never to receive one. Vasriina took in Iymlin’s appearance, matched in her likeness. Both of their long hair caressed their features giving them that exotic savageness. The long, moment was left unspoken only to be broken by one phrase alone.+[/color:211uwmvu]


[color=red:211uwmvu][i:211uwmvu]“Begin.”[/i:211uwmvu][/color:211uwmvu]


[font=Times New Roman:211uwmvu][color=olive:211uwmvu]+One thing that Vasriina inherited from her Mother were her observant eyes, and her reflexes were sharp, only honed through practice. Yet, even though this helped against Iymlin, she was very agile adversary, notorious for her speed and litheness. She noticed Iymlin making her move. Vasrrina had to be quick to match it. As if she were a reflection, she mirrored Iymlin’s advancements. Twisting, swinging, their rods converged and produced a strong collision between them, that it forced Vasrrina to slide back upon her feet. Quickly, Vasriina composed herself once more. No sign of shock or discomfort appeared on Vasriina’s face, only serenity. Focused on Iymlin, she strengthened her grips and lowered the staff to rest beside her waist. Vasriina gave a running jump towards Iymlin. Above her, Vasriina’s body bent back, similar to the form of a backwards C, lifting the rod beyond her head. She would strike downward, with greater force than the initial attack. +[/color:211uwmvu][/font:211uwmvu]



oOC[b:211uwmvu]{Hey, this is kinda fun. Gotta work on the fighting RP. Haha.}[/b:211uwmvu]

[Delphine Teken'tlar]

[color=indigo:8tm83wzo][font=Times New Roman:8tm83wzo]~There was a hum of rushing water coming from the natural spring -a fountain was built, as if to declare the founding of water- it was soothing and comforting to her. She listened closely to the bubbling echoes. It was like the stream was talking to her, whispering its story of where it has been and what it has seen, imparting its memories to her. A little smile spread across her face, as she dipped her fingers into the cool stream, wiggling them. She seated herself upon the ledges surrounding the fountain, careful as to not fall in. A slight giggle escaped her lips at the thought of it. She sat alone, lost in reverie, lost in the song. Delphine Teken’tlar, a rare piece indeed. Her story was bizarre and shrouded in mystery. little was known or revealed about her. Matron Brizmice Teken’tlar was careful with that, all that was known or rumored was of her “great” power within. However, just her appearance alone sparked curiosity among the citizens, raising questions. She sighed, looking at her reflection in the water.~


~Snow-white hair, pale, gray skin, and violet eyes. Delphine touched her face as she gazed at her mirror image, she tilted her head slightly to one side, her long hair fell about her shoulders. She seemed so foreign, every other Drow was darker, much darker compared to her. It made her feel nervous as all eyes laid upon her, if only they knew. Delphine understood her importance, but she was not quick to just disclose to anyone. She had an idea of what might occur if she did. War would happen. Sitting upright she smoothed out the wrinkles of her dress. Today she wore a strapless gown that fell about her tiny feet. The outfit was white, matching with her hair. Little, clear jewels were intricately sewn about the entire dress, like small dew-drops on leaves. A choker was tied around her slender neck, in the middle was a gemstone, and inscribed within it was her own House’s insignia. A thin circlet was placed upon her head, covered by her hair. It dipped low upon her forehead, an amethyst dangled from the dip, right in the middle. Her attire only made her the more noticeable, typically, high priestesses or Drow of significance only wear white. What did this mean?~


~Her long lashes closed slightly as she released a sigh. She crossed her legs together, about her ankles. Delphine turned her head slowly towards small crowd walking, fighting, and basically, living their normal lives, she then diverted her gaze to the noble houses. She dare not venture far from hew own, for Matron Brizmice would have her hide, she rested those meek eyes upon House Frerahel, the talk of the city as of late. Vasriina and Iymlin, two sisters forever locked in battle together, yet infamous, Matron Frerahel the formidable leader, Brizmice and Xunrak, half blood to the elder sisters, and not as whispered about. All this relayed by her own Matron and three aunts. She knew much about all the houses, when sheltered and protected like she, what else is there but to know.~ [/color:8tm83wzo][/font:8tm83wzo][/size:8tm83wzo]

[Priestess Iymlin]

[color=darkblue:2fcobe13][font=Times New Roman:2fcobe13]- -Snap! The noise echoed loudly as their batons connected, the sharp vibrations tingled through her hands and along down her arms. Iymlin grunted from the impact. The force itself caused her to be thrust back as well. She could feel the cutting sensations of the stone floor abrading her feet. Once stopped, she glowered at Vasriina for her content appearance. Vasriina proved to be faster than usual, this surprised her, but could she continue it? Vasriina then charged at her. Iymlin narrowed her stare at Vasriina and smirked, as her eyes pursued her. The moment Vasriina leapt into the air, Iymlin brought her own staff before her, placing one hand on each end. With such finesse, Iymlin bent her knees low and flipped backwards, keeping clear of Vasriina’s assail. Her naked feet produced a subtle thud as she smoothly landed into a crouched position, her nimbleness was intense. A teasing giggle pushed its way from her lips at Vasriina’s botched attempt. She twirled the wood staff rapidly above her head, and brought it down sharply pointing it at Vasriina. Iymlin stepped from her stooped arrangement, and advanced forward. Intentionally aiming for the gut of Vasriina, like a lancer, she clenched her teeth and rushed for her.- -[/color:2fcobe13][/font:2fcobe13]

[Arya Baenre]

Her gaze darted throughout the area, thin white eyebrows knit together in concentration. She walked as though she held a high position within her house, but her clothing introduced her as a mere soldier within the army of one of the many houses of Menzoberranzan.

Her hair was drawn up into a bun with onyx sticks keeping it in place, intricately decorated with silver symbols. Glittering rose irises stared out from underneath thin bangs that had escaped the hold that the rest of her hair was placed under, her bangs framing a delicate ebon face.

Tight-fitting leather enveloped her, shifting with her movements as she made her way through the city. Silver lined her outfit, and the symbol of her house - Ithari - was splayed across her chest in fine silver thread.

Thick lips parted in a sigh as she saw a resting place. Her steps quickened, bringing her near to Delphine. She steered clear of the other, sitting down and pulling her knees to her chest, keeping her gaze on the ground.

[Delphine Teken'tlar]

[color=indigo:1fjmrgu5][font=Times New Roman:1fjmrgu5]~Her ears twitched, alert, as she heard the heavy footsteps of someone approaching. Slowly, she moved her hands to lie beside her thighs, fingers curling underneath the ridges of the ledge. While still facing House Frerahel, she leisurely moved her eyes sideways to hopefully see who drew near, this sly attempt failed for she was turned opposite the stranger too much. So, casually she turned her head presenting the stranger with her intriguing face. Delphine drank in the appearance of the lone visitor. The woman presented a strong demeanor, clearly a warrior, an indentured soldier. The attire in which she was dressed was handsome, the emblem interesting, something foreign to Delphine, a House she had not come in contact with before. Those large, curious eyes mirrored her as she seated herself.~

~ Apparently she was an adult Drow, therefore Delphine was diminutive in comparison to her. Though, she always held a frail figure, and a weak persona. Yet, the power within her was something else. In the background you could hear the water continue its soothing phrases, the only resonance in the moment. Quickly, Delphine lowered her gaze hoping the woman did not notice her interest. As she did, the jewels that decorated her chimed. She heard the lady’s garments tighten as she gathered close to herself. This only added to the curiousness, natural for a youth. Was she frightened, timid, or unsocial? Delphine pursed her lips together, gathered her nerve. She was a girl of status, a daughter of importance, she should not be fearful, this was not acceptable. Swallowing, she addressed the new arrival.~[/color:1fjmrgu5][/font:1fjmrgu5][/size:1fjmrgu5]


[font=Times New Roman:1fjmrgu5][b:1fjmrgu5]“By your clothing I take it you serve a House as a soldier, a guardian, of your mistress. Are you on patrol, or running an errand for your Adopted Matron? Should you be resting and collecting your thoughts? It may serve against you…”[/font:1fjmrgu5][/size:1fjmrgu5][/b:1fjmrgu5]


[color=indigo:1fjmrgu5][font=Times New Roman:1fjmrgu5]~She spoke matter-of-factly, and did not quaver in her speech.~[/color:1fjmrgu5][/font:1fjmrgu5][/size:1fjmrgu5]

[Arya Baenre]

Her head turned in Delphine's direction as the younger Drow spoke out. Her mouth was slightly open, as if she were going to say something at the moment. Her eyes glinted in annoyance at being spoken to so casually and bluntly.

Her gaze raked the younger Drow, immediately noting her status and different look. She closed her mouth, her mind racing quickly as she gathered what information she could from staring at her. She knew this one, although the name escaped her. Not personally, but she had heard of her.

She turned to face forward again, leaning back and resting her weight against outstretched palms on the ground. "I'm waiting for someone." She bit her lip as the lie came out of her mouth before she could think of what to say, gently turning her head away from the other Drow and awaiting her rebuke. She would know that it wasn't the truth. This child should have no power over her, and yet, her station was higher than hers. Her fingers curled together in annoyance and regret. Her head dipped slightly.

[Xunrak Frerahel]

[font=Times New Roman:2ae2727w][b:2ae2727w]>Matron Felynthrae gingerly crossed her legs, resting her chin between her thumb and index finger. The right side of her lip curved upward slightly, forming a sly smirk. She looked downward upon Vasriina and Iymlin in their somewhat endless duel, even if one were to end this fight it would only carry on at some other time. A soft chuckle was made at each attempt made by either daughter. Matron Felynthrae took great enjoyment in watching this…game. It was obvious. She lifted her chin slightly as Vasriina failed, contemplating, her stare was ridiculing. Then, quietly, meekly one of their House slaves came forth coming about Matron Felynthrae holding a ornamented tray, and upon it a chalice.<


>Xunrak’s eyes shifted quickly to the slave. It was a lovely, young girl, quite timid. She was a pitiful sight. Her people had been conquered by Vasriina, and her taken into slavery by Iymlin, to serve out the rest of her days to House Frerahel. The girl was clothed in inexpensive attire, but it held the preferred House colors and upon both her wrists golden bands were placed, signifying her status as, slave, and to whom she belonged. The bracelets bore the emblem of House Frerahel. Her head was downward, casting her stare to the ground, not daring to ever look up. Xunrak smiled at this, his position was greatly above hers. He moved to halt the girl, but it was too late. Matron Felynthrae turned her head slowly to the girl, annoyance flared in her eyes at being disturbed. Xunrak held his breath.<


>Matron Felynthrae did not care for this being, she was of no significance at all. So, without any hesitation she struck the young woman across the face with her right hand, causing the girl to drop the contents in which she carried. The blow was powerful, for Matron Felynthrae was a skilled and adept person, versus the girl who held no physical strengths whatsoever, she fell to the ground. Matron Felynthrae simply turned away, returning her interest back to her daughters. Xunrak kept his gaze upon the girl, as she struggled to clean up the disarray, tears streaming down her lovely face. This one belonged to Iymlin, one of her personal selections to torment. He considered ending her anguished life there, but knew that the penalty he would bear would be only worse, from Iymlin.<


>He would deal with it later. Xunrak looked back to his elder sisters, particularly Vasriina. He only wondered who would come out victorious.<[/size:2ae2727w][/font:2ae2727w][/b:2ae2727w]

[Adian Novar]

(Time to introduce a wild card...a predator on those who fall. Now I get to indulge my inner slimeball...)

"A pity to treat such a pretty thing this way," the guest said in an amused tone, eyeing the subtle curves of the slave girl. Almost everything he said was spoken as though he were amused by some ongoing joke. "Marring such a lovely face could be a crime."

The guest was a human surface dweller, or at least he took the appearance of one. Despite his pale skin and red-brown hair, he was handsome even in the eyes of the most concieted elves. He towered over the Ilthilri, the females only coming so high as his chest when he stood. Right now his perfectly toned body was resting on a chair normally meant for two.

Very little was known about the visitor. He tended to come and go at a whim, always arriving alone and going about seemingly unprotected through the city. He was believed to be a frequent (if two or three times in a decade could be called "frequent") visitor of several of the Great Houses, though what services--if any--he provided for them was anyone's guess.

Only a few things were known about him, and the vast majority of that was rumor and speculation:

He may be a nobleman of some kind. Despite his size and strength, he was educated, urbane, and well-mannered. Yet he dressed simply: A cream-colored shirt and brown pants accented by polished black boots and a red sash tied about his waist. We was rarely seen in anything else.

He was strong. His body was sheathed in strong muscle, but rumors suggested that he was even stronger than that. Whispers said that he had once cracked stone in a brief fit of temper.

He was powerful. Magic danced about him, unseen yet almost tangible, and changed with his mood. No one could say for sure whether he was a mage or not, but the raw energy he possessed was formidable.

He was dangerous. Although he moved entirely by himself in the city, he walked without fear. Beyond his other abilities, he was believed to be in the favor of several Great Houses and even a few powerful individuals. In addition, a common story of him hinted that he had offended someone (their identity changed with each retelling), and had a team of assassins sent after him. The assassins were never heard from again, but he was supposedly seen escorting three female drow with collars around their necks and their chains in his hands when he left...one of them possibly matching the description of the disgruntled noble.

He admired females of all types. Ilthiri, elven, human, or half-breed, he admired beautious females openly. Rumor hinted that he never accepted coin for whatever serives he provided...only female slaves of the highest quality. Where he kept them and took them no one knew.

He gave the serving girl one last, burning look before turning his attention back to the contest before him. To be present at such an event was a great honor, he knew, and he fixed his eyes of molten gold on the two combatants.

[i:3hmjxtk0]One will stand, one will fall,[/i:3hmjxtk0] he thought. [i:3hmjxtk0]Pity I cannot put collars on them all right now...but I can wait. Fortunes wax and wane frequently here, and if they escape me, there's always the slave girl as a consolation prize.[/i:3hmjxtk0]

He watched the pair intently, though whether he was appriciating their abilities or their bodies was impossible to tell. He only smirked in anticipation.

[BaravarImrathiln]

((Hey, thought I'd add another pair of wild cards to the mix.))

At the far side of the square two pairs of red eyes watch the battle with interest. One set belonged to a slender female dressed as a scout in the underdark around the borders of the City of Spiders. With her was another Drow. This one was male, and taller than his companion by head and shoulders. While the woman was of average height for a Drow female, the male rose to six feet. He too wore the costume of the caverns, dark clothing that blurred his body heat, making him hard to see unless one spent effort in concentrating on his wavering shape. Most of the passing civilians gave the pair a wide berth. Part of the uneasiness was the battle and the presence of a Matriarch in the square. The other part was that even in the City of Spiders, the Cavestalkers were known as fell and peculiar people, untrustworthy and lethal like their chosen homes: The Wilds of the Underdark.

Watching the battle unfold, the female seems more uneasy about what she is watching than would make sense for a Cavestalker in the city. She seems all too familiar with what is transpiring, and the sheer foolish futility of the whole thing. The female shifts a little in her seat as if to rise and leave, but the male places a black-gloved hand on her shoulder, gently restraining her.

"yth re tenpiswo ekess shivi, ti gewj, illorya. gewjiwa geou ti aso udoka." The words are a harsh whisper, sibilant in the shadowy blackness of their vantage point. It was not Ilythiiri that he spoke, but a language far older. He looks past her toward the ongoing battle, his face impassionate. This was a thing that he knew well too, though he had spent much of his life in other places where the foolish code of the Drow meant nothing. Status would not save you from the slavering jaws of a beast. He had risen above even the Matrons in one way: he was at home in the trackless wilds of the underdark where even a Matriarch would hesitate to travel alone. In the Wilds, the Cavestalker was supreme, as the Ranger was in the forests of the surface world.

The female nods a little bit, accepting the rebuke with good grace. The ranks of the Cavestalkers did not stand on station, but on knowledge and experience. The absolutes of the law of the wild did not stand on ceremony or gender, and neither did the Cavestalkers, when they took apprentices. The woman, though she may have been a priestess once, was not the leader in this pair, if it had a leader.

"si vucot, Istryl, shar si chiili ti hefoc svabol si ocuir tenpiswo." She looks up at him, then back to the battle between ambitous priestesses. She sighs once more, clearly wishing to be someplace else. "Do we really need to be here, Istryl?"

The male nods once more, his soft whisper hissing out once more.
"martivir. shivi. yth nomag sjerit creolnali bensvelk di nomeno."

[NathreeDe'Shezbron]

OOC: I thought that since there are wild cards aplenty in your campaign, but no assassins, I though I might add a pair, if you don't mind

IC:

So far, and for a while longer, they hopped, the female warrior they were following hadn't spotted them. Although the other female that she was talking to didn't seem to be intimidating, or a full adult, for that matter! in the Underdark, not all otward appearances were to be trusted. The pair of assassins, both male, judging from their posture, stood in the shadows. They both wore loose black shirts, over which they wore leather vests. They both wore, what appeared, an average drow [i:3qjjlk56]piwafi[/i:3qjjlk56] and dark brown leather gloves . That, however, was where the similarities ended. The drow on the right who was slightly taller, had a peice of cloth, decorated with an ornate inlay of silver and gold thread, with a ruby in the center, that gave the apperance of an eye. Underneath that, he wore a full-face mask, that give him the appearance of some hunting cat. He wore the hood of his piwafwi up, further obscuring his face. But one feature seemed to stand out, his eye. It was the normal red color, but it seemed as if there was no pupil, simply a point of red, amidst the sea of black that was his whole form. He had a pair of sword strapped to his hips, the hilts seemed well worn, and the scabbards had seen many leagues.

His companion, was harder to discern. It seemed as if space just blurred around him, making it very difficult to see where his body ended, and the surroundings began, a useful ability in their profession. Nonetheless, he too wore a mask, similar to his companion's, only his was shaped in the likeness of a diatryma. On his waist he had a rapier, and a bandoleer of dagger was hung across his chest. His hand never seemed to leave the hilt of that rapier.
"Vel'bol ph'nind xundus?" The clothed man whispered, "Zhah nindel udossta marquathrow?"
His companion shrugged, "I knew nothing of there being a female that we were to kill. Speak Common, your Drowish gives me a headache." He was obviously a human.

[Adian Novar]

The guest, Brand, noted the appearance of the numerous strangers to the scene with mild irritation. It seemed as though there were other players, and stakes, than a mere power struggle between rival drow nobles.

In the end, though, he would profit. He always did.

[NathreeDe'Shezbron]

"What are they saying, Zazzt?" asked the human.
He scoffed, "Why don't you find out, that is your talent, isn't it, Rei?"
He wiggled his fingers, and another drow walked aimlessly towards the pair of talking females, and past them, stopping as if to recheck his boots, listening intently