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The priest hung from an iron cross erected in the centre of the Bazaar, limply, like a boneless puppet, for that was what he was now, after having had his limb-bones slowly and carefully broken by the yathallaren, the High Priestesses of Lloth. What remained of his delicately structured, elegantly comely features were swollen and bruised, pathetically disfigured, and gaping sockets yawned raggedly where keen, earnest eyes had watched the world. His sober raven robes were rent in places and bloodied in others, more like a funeral shawl now than a dignified raiment befitting a priest of the Masked God. His breath came in choked gurgles, but he didn't struggle, not because he could not, but, it seemed, because he wished not.

Despite the iron nails that had been hammered through his wrists and ankles to hold him to the cross, despite the humiliating Lloth-spell that kept him alive through the torture and would keep him barely alive for as long as the yathallaren decreed, he retained an impossible aura of quiet deportment. It wasn't that he had not screamed when they plucked out his eyes and crushed his fingers, or when they stretched him on the adamantite wheel to be slowly broken, but something else. One could call it patience, or idiocy, could hail it as spirit, or simple mindless fanatism, call it determination, or the conviction that he had nothing left to lose.

He did not hope that he would be rescued. Though it was part of Vhaeraun's teachings to aid any fellow believer in trouble, he knew that his faction, at least, had been terminated efficiently. If there were other factions, he hoped fervently that the Masked God would advise them to turn a blind eye. Some things were better left alone, for others to survive. The factions were comparatively small, and neither knew the existence of any other, to be safe in Lloth-ruled Menzoberranzan, where the yathallaren were skilled in the art of forcing one to give up all his secrets that he knew of, and did not even know of, just to stop the pain. They were quite adept at surviving and conversion. However, mistakes always happen.

Sometimes his swollen lips would twitch upwards, as if trying to smile, though he never did this while yathallaren were watching. That was curious in a way -- without his eyes, he still seemed to have some sort of vision. It was not because of spells -- with the wards around him, spells would only alert the yathallaren, and lead to more torture. Besides, he was waiting.

Occasionally yathallaren and other drow would address him with sneering words, just meaningless sounds, and spit on him, but he did not seem to respond. Dully, his head sunk down onto his body, which bleed from a thousand small, excruciatingly painful cuts that would continue weeping red tears, his body being magically replenished. The yathallaren had imagination that could sometimes surpass their Goddess herself.

In this semi-somnolent state he retreated into his mind, praying to Vhaeraun for death. Time passed, or perhaps it had not, for he ceased to try and count the hours by the amount of traffic in the Bazaar. It seemed that he had been there forever, since the Founding of Menzoberranzan, as a puppet with four tentacles suspended on a cold iron cross, reviled and despised.

Then Vhaeraun whispered to him once during a Black Death of Narbondel, where the Bazaar was empty except for beggars and lowlife, where shadows, even in the darkness of the city, seemed visible and fluid, and then he knew what he had been meant to do. There was no resignation, or fury, or horror that he had been 'fated' to fall to the yathallaren and end up in his current state, only a tranquil sense of resolve. So he waited, and began to note the cycles again -- for him, Time had continued her march.

---

As Vhaeraun had predicted, He appeared after six cycles, during the Black Death. Valkryn Valdrin Jabbuk was careful, eyes darting around. He knew who this man was. It was the one who took him in as a lost waif -- a former Noble Child turned begger and little thief. His story is now well-known to those that know it. Now Weapons Master of House Navere, a Darkmask in disguse and Deadly leader of L'Barra Quellar -- a Militiant Group of Vhearaun's devotee, himself -- chosen of the Masked Lord. He and His Matron had Arrived in The City to Visit House Navere's Holdings Here, the Estate of High Priestess Chaka Navere -- sister to Matron Gia Navere -- while on 'family business'. They were drawn to the spectacle of the Old Priest's torment with the crowd earlier, and the look of terror on Valkryn's face became evident -- even more curious as it seemed that the Matron Called Gia was Careful in how she silently tried to console her Weapons Master, as she knew something deeply troubled him about this man's torment .. she felt it.

Valkryn hung back from a distance, his unique barra piwafwi rustling, soft boots with just the faintest hint of sound, but the priest heard, and his lips twitched. The Sound of a weapon unsheathed as he squared his shoulders and stalked forward, as graceful as a cat, footsteps purposeful, confident, lightly curious. He stopped a ways from the cross -- close enough to speak to, but far enough such that the stink of blood and slow death would not grow too offensive.

Valkryn Looked up at his Former Mentor, and raged in his heart. He didn't know if he was Dead or Alive. The Images of him Being Tortured Earlier haunted him "How could he still be alive?" he thought .. more or less, how did he get caught? He thought of Gia, doing her best to comfort him as they all watched ... how Chaka, Gia's sister, seemed to delight in the pain his former Mentor was going through. Gia knew what he was feeling however, through the bond she felt it too ... it took EVERY OUNCE of his will power to refrain from actting foolish and exposing them both. He moved closer to release the Priest.

There was a blessed, nearly awkward silence, as the priest tilted his head, as if he were gazing on his visitor with working eyes, than with bloody pits. Neither spoke, as if afraid of disrupting the distracted serenity. During the Black Death, the priest was normally secretly watched as well, but on these nights, Vhaeraun had managed to arrange... circumstances. Both Valkryn and The old priest felt an irrational surge of freedom, which the priest quickly suppressed lest it made him forget what he was supposed to do.

Then he decided to speak first, once his visitor seemed as though he was having second thoughts about coming.

"Vendui, malla Qu'el'saruk ... Malus ..." The priest took pleasure in speaking the measured cadences of the pure drow tongue, not the mixed, bastard one which commoners would learn, though that one was easier to pronounce and understand, lacking words which hid meanings and reeked of ambiguity. Admittedly, this made it the preferred language to bargain with.

The proclaimation of his once true named rocked Valkryn, and the Priest knew the greeting had hit its mark. Another silence, before he was answered by a low stuned voice. "Y -- You .... you are still alive!?" Valkryn spoke silently with reserved shock and reverence, and -- the priest knew -- enforced nobil

"That I am.." The priest spoke without stammer or forced breathing, though his words were slightly distorted by the state of his mouth, they were clear and lucid, apparently not what Valkryn had expected. Certainly the priest did not appear to give any indication at all that he felt the pain that he should be enduring.

Valkryn snorted, as if attempting to stifle a laugh and the priest could tell that he folded his arms in an unconscious, ironic gesture of goodwill, by the sounds of leather gloves over leather, then skin, then the heavy, protective sleeves of the Navere uniform. "I always knew there had to been truth behind the rumor that you had some unique power." This was said in a tone that expressed not only mild curiosity, and ironic humor in an attempt to lighten the situation but which belied with burning hope as well.

"Nothing is unique. My 'power', if it could even be seen as that, is of Vhaeraun, for Vhaeraun. We both know that" The priest spoke of the Masked God with a sort of affectionate reverence, and Valkryn's shifted position suggested he agreed and understood.

"They all revile in your torment, thinking our Lord, Vhaeraun, has forsaken you, old Abbil."

The priest wished he could shrug. "I am clearly bait. There is no point in attempting a rescue - there are other factions, they clearly know of that fact, and our Lord is a God of thieves. Thieves know how to dance around ... 'bait'. But I doubt you were here to hear that."

"No, I was not. I have come to end this and aide you -- as you did for me long ago."

"Why?"

A nearly gentle sound was heard as Valkryn ran his hand through darken locks. "... because I have to ..." The answer was too immediate to have been anything but practiced.

"Truly?" The mouth of the priest twitched again. ".. I think not."

The old priest forgot himself and chuckled -- then choked on blood and bile, hacking painfully. Valkryn looked up torn yet he waited with curious courtesy. "But perhaps you are right. You once came to me, seeking knowledge of the Gods from one not of the Queen, is that not?" The hanging question was but mere formality but the silence was longer.

"Or does the thoughts of a shattered 'high' priest of a minor group of religious dissidents matter? Especially One sent by a certain Matron of House Navere?"

"She .... does not have to know of this But understands. There is more to her than you can know, Abbil. And I have only tonight."

He looked About carefully as He Moved closer to set him free, but hesitated for he knew the cross was enchanted. He gently scratched his chin as he thought out his plan but then oddly hestopped, looking up at the priest. Something he said struck an odd cord within him. He quirked a right marked brow in his direction. "Amazing. After all this time, I would almost believe you could read minds. "

"Would you?"

"If you had mind-powers, I would have recalled some inkling of it. Well then, if it isn't to recuse you, tell me what I apparently came here for." Valkryn's voice acquired the desperate playfulness of those who see themselves as the hopelessly damned.

"There is a price for everything."

"One I am willing to pay -- but you already know this." Valkryn's thoughts quickly turned to what he could do to aide his former mentor. "If you don't not want me to resuce you, then what do you wish of me? Do You wish a quick death?"

"No. Perhaps your matron's soul ... Ah, but you sneer and turn, conditions then. Give Vhaeraun the right and honor to her soul after your second death, when you'd perish in fire that is liquid. Is that impossible enough for you?"

"I have already died once, priest ..."

"Perhaps ... Well then?"

Silence.

"Very well," Valkryn said, "It is not as though I even control the fates. And your ... conditions seem impossible enough to fulfill."

The priest could not see his old pupil visibly struggle with himself, before shaking his head in defeat. "Yes. I would think it is. I wouldn't even ask but a final request ..."

"What Then ...?"

"Bring her to me .. then you would both take your leave." Valkryn looked at him oddly for a few long silent moments, then nodded as the old priest murmured and the footsteps faded away.

The priest waited.

---

After 12 more cycles, during yet another Black Death, the priest knew that the attention of the yathallaren had again been distracted, and he prepared himself for his next visitor. This one he could not hear, as she walked in magical silence, even if by her Noble and dashing appearance, the swish of her bodice and dress made he should have done so. The priest sensed that she was nearing, and when she was near enough, he spoke, voice distorted.

"Vendui ... "

..She hesitated at a safe distance, as if afraid that he would suddenly tear out of his bounds and rip out her throat, fascinated by this evidence of mortal brutality, fascinated by the way he seemed to bear this quietly.. The priest could not see her, in his darkness that was more absolute than that of the Underdark, but he knew that she had watched him for some days ago with his former student, rather unwillingly, eyes drawn up when she tried to soothe the rage in Valkryn in secrecy to the bloody spectacle on the iron cross. So she came this Black Death.. There came a low, pleasing chuckle fro "Vhaeraun's own do seem to be more preistant than the Goddess'.." .. she pursed her ruby painted lips together,, lightly placing a finger along her shapely bottom lip.. "Well priest, out of respect for Valkryn, I am ..here. I am curious.. What did you say to Valkryn twelve cycles ago? He doesn't even remember it other than you bid for me to see you, and that's strange by itself, stranger that the connection he and I share broke when he was speaking to you, only to re-connect when he was departing.."

"He got what he came for. If he remembered not, that is through no fault of his own."

"..Through a fault of yours, I would think. Even my daughter.. Elora .. an accomplished mage.. couldn't see what it was, except some vague reference to a deal. A sort of quid pro quo. Well.. With all your perception, can you see what I seek?"

"You seek power."

"That's true enough, and easy enough.. most of our kind do."

"Perhaps not the way you do. You seek power because of who you are and whom you were born to, power while still working for those of the Queen, to gain power though in Her eyes. Perhaps it's childish in a way - this undertone of I'd show you. Just watch me. And it's a pity that now this is all that drives you and your considerable mind, all you can think of when you wake and when you sleep, because it was born of a heart - hurt when you were a child."

..At first there was silence.. until it was broken by a brief, sarcastic clapping of gloved, velvet covered hands..

"Very, very good.. But saying it is one thing, and giving it is another."

"Vhaeraun could give you luck unbeknown by your Goddess - allow you to saunter easily up through this society as easily as you could kill a commoner, and create a rank of your own - more influential, and the noble Houses above and below would vie for your favors."

"And what would you want in return, Vhaeraun priest? Your freedom and your life? ..I'm certain you know Valkryn has tried this before with me.."

"My Freedom and my Life? No. That I already have, in a way. Vhaeraun would have your soul, but you smile. Let us see. You would gift the Masked God your soul when you have more power than you could ever have, should ever have, yet you would willingly, gladly give it away and care not, when you throw away everything to walk side by side with your Weapons Master - without fear of reprissal? Is that impossible enough for you?"

"Priest, I've learnt that nothing is truly impossible. But that's difficult enough for me. Very well, I agree."

"Then Vhaeraun will watch over you and your house. And some final words:

'Seek thee the husk of ice,
Where fire burns all crystallized,
Yet in th'finding thou'lt lose thy life,
As thou knowest it, taken not by knife,
Heed not the snarling House,
That'd seek thy spirit th'douse,
Yet watch them well, for truth,
It'd kill thee, 'ere they're wroth.'

.. I'd not be so impudent as to tell you exactly how you could advance your influence, for that you would already be aware of."

"Not a very felicitous prophecy, if it were one."

"It was not meant to be. There are few things that are truly propitious in this world, malla Illharess. I would advise you not to crave power's fickle smile." The priest said softly, gently, his voice a reassuring caress.

Gia Navere bit her lower lip as she let those words sink in. A Noise startled her as she seemed to be looking around wildly for eavesdropping yathallaren.

"You need not fear -- this night They are not listening," he continued, his mouth twitching for a "Have you What have you came for? Is that enough?"

"I.." she hesitated.. for some reason, she didn't know why "..don't understand.. I ..Purpose.."

"Purpose is something that lights the darkness and drives away despair, which gives hope and turns suffering into something worthwhile. But you already know that, don't you? He gives you purpose when you are not allowed to. What have you to offer?"

After a long, nervous silence, she whispered, almost ashamedly, ".. despite my position and power ... It appears I have Nothing to offer you."

He laughed then, a chuckle of pleasure and delight, one that surely surprised Gia Navere. "Dear child. The rogue who would be noble offered me life and then death, and You, the noble who would be rogue, would offer nothing. And well enough -- to me that would have been the only gift that I would desire."

..She seemed confused; by the way she shifted her weight uneasily on the cobblestones.. "..Really?..I do not understand.."

"If you had nothing to give me, then I would truly have something of while to give you. Voids a hunger to be filled."

The priest's mouth twitched, as if in satisfaction, though she could not tell. "Hmm. I cannot explain to you that unnamed word and what it would mean to you, because for each and every individual its importance changes. For some it's dark and cold, for some it's bright and fiery, for some it's like the brush of gentle wings, for some it's cruel steel. For some it'd last long past the barrier of death, for some it flickers out more quickly than a candle placed within a breeze. For some it'll only be given to things material, for others, mere ideals that cannot be quantified. That's the word for us all to know."

".. Any rothe that sleeps in the dung-heap knows that..." she said, with some curiousty.. she was interested in seeing where this was going. One thing was for certain.. even in this condition ..she could see why Valkryn had looked up to this male as a boy ..

"Time belongs to herself. She just hauls all else behind her - the Gods, the rats, the nobles, and the slaves."

"Perhaps the torture took more of your sanity than Valkryn realized." ..Gia mused.

"What is insanity but unconventional belief. Well then, I will give you what you came for. Would you hear a story that should explain to you that which you want?"

"..Let's hear it.."

"Very well. In the early days of this world when elves were young the gods walked amongst them. Then the Underdark was empty and humans had not evolved, and creatures of myth were more plentiful than they are now, when they are hunted and destroyed if they even raise tooth or fang against unforgiving civilization. There was as much peace as there could be, and as much laughter as their could be -- elves were carefree and mixed, gold and silver and dark, winged and ground-walkers, wolf-changers and the static ones. Magic or the warrior arts, sleight-of-hand or the nature lore, there were no distinct classes -- one learnt what one wanted to, lived what one wished to, followed what one intended to."

..Gia scoffed.. "Truly, priest?"

"What is truth, but to be woven by belief? But to continue, there was a Goddess who was as happy as she would be, with an entourage that was as large as it was seemly. She was beautiful as a winter's sunset - though of course you have not seen that -- and cheery -- her silvery laughter like exquisite streams of cool delightful water, her wit sharp and her temper fiery, but her followers adored her and she returned the feelings. She liked to dance with them, twirling under the sun and whirling under the moon."

"..Have you seen the surface, priest?"

"Aye. All of Vhaeraun have seen and will see the surface, in reality or in dreams. It is where we belong, not in the ground like corpses nourishing weeds. There was one particular follower that she secretly liked above the rest -- he was handsome even by elven standards, with silvered hair and amber skin, light of eye and quick of step. A mix, in fact -- of elves of the sun and the moon. Magic worshipped him -- with a flick of the wrist he would create all sorts of lovely things for her, and wait breathlessly for every word of approval, every smile, every gesture. When he neared her, she seemed to forget all else -- when she neared him, he blushed and his normally quick tongue tied itself into knots."

"..Amusing.."

"I'm glad you find it so, Illharess d'Chesstrin Aleanl'und." .. He was quick to acknowledge her Ancestral house name, and her brow raised in that acknowledgement.. "It certainly amused and elated her followers, that she would take such pleasure in a mortal. They were happy for a while, though neither voiced their true feelings, neither denied them either. Perhaps they even enjoyed that joining of two souls to be one."

"So they Bonded then.. like Valkryn & I.." .. Gia deliberately tried to conceal her interest..

"I was coming to that. One day it chanced that another Goddess visited her Court. Since all the Gods were brothers and sisters she was welcomed with due honor, and she stayed for a while, chatting with her sister, dancing with her sister. They became close, and the visiting Goddess was invited to stay. Now the old one -- we shall call her the Bright One, and the other, Dawn, to avoid confusion, though the Gods of that time took no names -- was happier than she should be, for she had two that she adored with all her soul, along with her followers that she adored with all her heart."

"I think I can see where this is going.."

The priest's mouth twitched, though this time it seemed that it did so sadly. "'Tis sad that cynicism controls your mind, and sadder yet that it controls this world as well. Yes, the better-liked follower did seem, to the Bright One, to be less attentive than usual, and sometimes, imagined or not, she seemed to catch him smiling at Dawn, and sometimes Dawn acknowledged the smiles with some of her own, and sometimes not. It is not known if such things were imagined or otherwise, and in this case, we do not particularly care. At first she dismissed such notions as fanciful, and laughed them away, but then jealousy was born and began its steady walk through the halls of her heart, and she did not laugh any longer. She brooded, and did not dance, did not joke or play, only watched the follower with burning eyes on her throne of daisies."

"..I was right."

"And it's a pity that you are. Well then, the follower, at first, tried to cheer her, but with cold words she drove him away. Her other followers learned not to try and near her, though they knew not why -- they could not know that for the first time, a God had learned hatred and jealousy, and the pain that rides with them. It seemed to the Bright One that they began to laugh and dance with Dawn instead of with her -- though she did not realize that it was her new temper that caused this, and worse yet -- her own follower did so as well. Darkness was the next to be conceived, in her heart, and it seethed inside her, a searing lick of flame where once only that unnamed emotion had burned instead."

"Interesting. Both emotions 'burn'.."

"Aye, that they do. They are alike and yet not alike, as is spilled blood is akin to spilled wine. When the inevitable happened, it happened in a sorry way. She stole up on him and Dawn one day, under an oak that bore roses without thorns. They were unaware of her presence, and he was with hands a-tremble, in the midst of giving something to Dawn. It was a small gold heart with a spiral of blue obsidian, on a gold chain so fine it seemed that it should break. And his words tore at her: he was saying to Dawn, 'This gold pendant would represent all my heart and adoration, with it I pledge my entire being. I would give it.' but she would hear no more of it, for snarling like some maddened monster, she leaped from her concealment and bore down on them."

"..Again I see where this is going.."

"And again you are right, more's the pity. She cursed them both and used her power against the one she called sister, and though Dawn tried to defend herself, hatred and anger lent the Bright One more strength, and Dawn was driven away. Then the Bright One turned on her follower, who was rooted to the ground in disbelief, the heart slipping through frozen fingers onto the ground."

"This story is beginning to bore me.."

"Is it? Then go." Gia blinked and stared at him for his dimissal. She should just turn away and let him die she thought, but something inside of her couldn't leave this old priest, so she remained where she was.. in definace of this dying male -- she kept telling herself. The priest's mouth twitched, again, as he knew other-wise "No? Very well, then I will continue. The Bright One froze him there as she summoned all her followers, then she turned on them and killed them all, screaming through it all as if it was herself that felt the clawed blows, eyes maddened, heart broken, until at last, a-drenched in crimson pain that was not her own and was her own, she returned to him. He was horrified beyond measure, and could not speak a word, but her bloodlust had not been sated. For long days afterward she tortured him slowly, driving off those who would interfere, with sufferings worse than what I have experienced, and what the yathallaren have inflicted since this city had been built. And at the end of it all when she denied to let him die she finally saw him move his mouth as if at last about to speak, and she bent down to hear him whisper, 'The heart was for you. The heart was for you. The heart was for you.' again and again with his dying breath until his spirit departed."

"..I definitely saw that coming."

"I'm sure you did. Apparently, daring not approach her, he would have given Dawn the heart to give to the Bright One, since he thought that he had fallen out of her favor, and only Dawn could approach her. She was past stunned, and her heart that she thought broken, shattered again, and was destroyed. She fled from him, until her feet all unknowing took her to the bloody field where she had killed those she had once adored, and dazed, she chanced upon the gold heart that lay on the soaked grass. But when she picked it up, it turned into a spider on her palm and scuttled away, bringing her sanity with it. She pursued it, but it disappeared into the grass."

"And, now this is beginning to seem familiar.."

"And well it should be. She withdrew away from the world as Time progressed and all grew older -- and since she had known hatred and evil, so some other Gods and creatures alike became tainted with it, as everything was linked in those days."

"Vhaeraun himself is an evil god, priest."

The priest tried to shrug, but could not. "What is evil, and what is not? What you call evil, may not be what we do. This Goddess, the Bright One, wandered until she found the Underdark, and she walked its endless tunnels of darkness, where she slowly forgot heartbreak and continued to learn hatred. Eventually when there was the great battle and the dark elves, the ones who had not been part of her follower -- if you remember, he was a mix of sun and moon -- fled, and she was one of those waiting from the shadows. She turned those she took to evil and guided them to the darkness, changing their eyes, changing their minds, and turning them against the light. She took a name that should be known to you, many names. She decreed, eventually, that the female was higher than the treacherous, stupid male, perhaps suppressing part of the memories that pointed that all that chanced was her fault, not his. And because part of her, a small part, still did care, she decreed that none should harm the spider, for one of them, out there, was his heart."

Then there was silence, as Gia realized that the priest had finished.. "..So, what does that tell me?.."

"What you wished to hear, about how destructive is that which is not named, and that of importance of her that shall not be named, of how caprice and emotions can lead to the sundering of an entire species. Is that not enough, then?"

There was yet more silence, as Gia pondered what the priest had said.

"Well then, my Dear, I have done my part, now I ask two in return. He cares for you -- as I know you do for him. Rare it is in our world and yet so dangerous a road for you both. Bring him to Sshamath with you. I have forseen this for the both of you, you must go."

..Gia looked at him oddly, nodding silently..

" ..And this other thing you ask of me?"

"spit on me. Now, you need not start so wildly -- it is what I wish of you. When you do it, you will know purpose."

Again there was a long silent pause, then he felt something wet spatter on his ankles. Her eyes grew wide as knowledge filled her mind like cool water would fill a silver goblet, knowledge of living and dying, of true power, unlocking her soul and her true sentience that had been barred by years of living by nimble fingers, of spells and magic, and the Gods. She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. She turned on her heels and stalked away, her gait now graceful and steady, not like the hesitant, poised-to-flee one of old.

As for the priest, having passed on what he had possessed of an essence of a High Priest of Vhaeraun, saw images in quick succession in his mind's eye -- of the Qu'el'saruk and Illharess, picking up their newborn daughter they share. That Daughter would show uncanny acumen and intelligence that she had already possessed from her parents from birth, as well as a quick grasp of the arcane and the spiritual. She would enter Arach-Tinilith, train for long years, graduate with honors, and all through this she would secretly, unknown to the Queen and her minions, revere only Vhaeraun. And at last, this child would flee the Underdark to the surface, gathering followers, and build a city to the Masked God in a cavern close to the Surface. It would continue to expand long after she would die. It was not vengeance, but he had not, and did not, desire revenge. He was content, and so, after a last, labored breath, Vhaeraun allowed him the final peace.

Bright fire roared up from the foot of the cross and consumed the body, so hot that even the enchanted iron melted down into a silvery, still-burning pool of metal and ashes, which would burn until the Black Death ended, bright white, cleansing fire on unfeeling metal.

---

*** Back to Present ***

Back in Sshamath, Gia and Valkryn had traveled together to re-establish trade with the City of Dark Weavings. Gia had told Valkryn about her meeting with the Old Priest. She knew he thought highly of him -- almost like a father figure. She had informed him him that they would leave shortly for the city -- together -- Later that day, they set out, Together and Alone, unusal for two in their position, but one they both knew that they must take. Later At dusk, after they settled into their Guest Quarters While they were staying here in the City, Gia left Valkryn alone to his religious beliefs. She had respected his beliefs, even if she did not always agree with them.. but she knew by his quiet demeanor on the trip that he needed time alone. She kissed him, caressing the skin under his chin with her long dark sharp nails, not saying a word.. for none was needed -- before she left him for the Bazaar to shop for Valas, Elora and new born Anaja.. and more importantly, to leave Valkryn in peace.

Valkryn, for his part, prepared dressed in his traditional all black asian hakama umanori, one he only wears for religious ceremonies to represent both Drow and Asian Traditions, and sets the obsidian black bowl down and placed a magical spider charm he 'pick-pocketed' from some arrogant High Priestess while in Menzobbarrazan, into it. In reverence, he utter his silent prayer that only he and Vhaeraun would hear, bowing in tr "..Ja'hai Nindol gultah ussta Senger. Nindol dro zhah dossta, lu' add ukt ulu dossta 'zil al, Vhaeraun, 'zil dos izin uns'aa izil ulu dro ussta dro .. lu' ja'hai ukta wund dosst veldrin. Xal dosst velkyn rahi elendar mrigg ussta velven lu' l' menvis.." The offering sunk into a thick dark liquid as it began to melt as he prayed. He knew his Mentor was dead .. as he leaned up, eyes closed .. medating in quiet communion with his Masked Lord in peace as his offering had melted away and was being absorbed into the liquidy nexus that began humming and then slowly pulsated a dark blue nimbus of muted light ... he knew then that the old priest was with his Lord ...

Translation: "Accept This offer my Lord. This life is yours, and add his to yours as well, Vhaeraun, as you allow me able to live my life .. and accept him into your shadows. May your unseen hands continue to guide my blades and the path."

He has spent most of his time in Deep Mediation with his Lord .. Images Flashed through his mind ... the Black Widow Crawling over Rivvin Che'el ... and on Navere itself ... and the lands upon the Night Above .. the Cradle and Sanctuary, where he and Gia has built a power there ... the city, the House and the cradle suddenly becomes surrounded and engulfed by a rolling shadow as a large black widow Spider appears and seems to feast on it all ... Valkryn Feels terror in his heart at these images .. next Then Appears images of Gia and a red headed drow he didn't recongize facing each other with disgust in their eyes .. their eyes, Gia's as ruby red and this one, she had eyes of amber, something he thought interesting .. between them, a tower crumbles as a young girl appears, dancing within the shadows .. her eyes remind him of Anja's, yet hears the Spider Queen's laughter as she dances, as if it isn't her voice ... he grimaces against this image, for he can see the hate and callous look in her eyes .. another puppet he see's, until he looks closer .. and she appears to wears a half black mask and is carrying one of his own swords, except the blade was as black as night ... suddenly, like a flash, another sword appears, piercing the spiders body from above .. the short sword was one of wonder to Valkryn .. one he recongized right away ... ".. 'Shadowflash' .." he whispers as the images of Gia and this red headed stranger at 1st seemed troubled by the sword piercing the spider and then they seemed to laugh at it's pain as the Spider Dies an agonizing death ... all the while, a voice is heard throughout his head -- one he didn't dare ignore, not that he could anyways ".. YOU are my sword .. chosen .. YOU are my weapon .. stay the path .." ... The images of both women became blurred as Vhaeraun's mask showed, morphing into his black ivory skull mask, and he could see himself kneeling before it, grinning with a mad/insane look in his eyes, his arms dripping in blood as the voice continued ".. remember .. YOU ARE MY WEAPON .." .. The voice echo'ed in his head as his eyes snapped open, looking about to see where he was ... in the Guest quarters of the Vengeful Weave .. he sighed as he contemplated the images his Lord imparted to him ... he did his customary bow, whispering the words to end his commune with Vhaeraun

"Vhaeraun tlu laoles -- Xal dosst velkyn rahi elendar mrigg ussta velven lu' l' menvis."

He removed his Black Ivory skull mask, exaiming it abit ... like the bond he and Gia shared, this too was as much his blessing as his curse, for he recalled the pact he made with Vhaeraun when He wanted vengence for what he thought was Gia's -- and his son Valas' -- death so long ago ... how his maddness took a name, Venorsh D'Vesdrac, and took the face of his mask .. he pushed away the blurred images of blood, the screams of those victims, and how he delighted in their pain -- fighting off that side of him, keeping control of his sanity once again ... again he sighed and carefully hid his make-shift alter away in a place only he would know ... He undressed as He recalled the voice .. clear as day, changing into his dark suit ...

"... I am his weapon ..."

.. Clasping his barra piwafwi, he felt the taint of the shadows, as if it was a warm welcoming to his very soul. He swayed his hand as the shadows seem to waiver at his silent command. Gia would be back eventually .. but he had business to do. he knew she would be well and could take care of herself .. He Tested his weapons abit, grinning as each weapon felt like an extension of his will. He had work to do ... such as seek out his old contacts -- if they still lived. he recalled a few of the stares as he recalled every detail when they 1st arrived, especially a hateful look of a young drow girl .. one he found interesting .. he would possibly seek her out later. He felt she had a role in whatever path he was here for .. but for now he needed to work. He went to thewindow, and moving as silently as a ghost, silently climbed and pulled himself upon the a platform. Not a sound was made as Valkryn's movements were as careful as they wre planned. Once upon the Platorm (a Balcony or whatever) he stayed within the shadows, becoming one with them as He quietly launched himself. Moving in fluid motion, He quicken his speed, Moving from one building to another in a arcobatic display .. he enjoyed doing this as to him it made he feel free .. but he kept his focus, jumping, climbing, leaping, swinging from place to place high above, keeping out of sight of anyone. These skills was taught while he trained with the Scorpion Clan in the lands of Rokugan .. coming alive as he moved like the wind, not making a sound ... after awhile He stopped, Looking out over the city, his barra piwafwi flowing in a slight underdark breeze as it's ends seem to meld with the darkness .. he looked out, spotting the Tower of the Masked Mage in the Distance. He quirked a brow in it's general direction, recalling some of the jobs the Masked Mage hired him for long ago, to interrupt plans against the Spider Queen. A smile slowly etched across his features as he recalled those days fondly, the chaos he caused was so much fun!! However THAT was not his destination. He made His Way Along, clinging to buildings and other area's like a spider, yet remaining unnoticed as he remained within and a part of the Shadows, using his abilities and 'magical help' to cover his tracks and movements as well. Finaly he arrived in his destination, a place he knew all too well. Landing softly on an old building, he crouched low and looked out over the crowd below, watching intently, noting every detail of each person he saw, his surroundings everything. Then he spotted him.

---

Kelnozz was laughing to himself as he made his way thru a maze of alleyways, looking at the objects he 'aquired' off of some lesser noble. He seemed very proud of himself .... until he heard a slight rustle behind him, he quickly turned around only to be forced up against a wall ..

"wha!? .. I .. gack ...."

A curious blade was held up to his throat, one that seem to trigger something in the man's memory .. the attackers features were hidden under a cowl of a dark piwafwi, until it seemed the shadows drew back, as if they had a will of its own, showing only his lower jaw. The Man smiled as He Dragged Him quickly into another dead end back alley, getting tossed ahead abit

"Look .. I'm a very important ..."

"You are nothing Kel .. don't lie to me .."

Kelnozz froze at that voice, as if a ghost had come to haunt him. He looked back, wide-eyed, trembling

"I.. it ... it can't be ... you're .."

"Dead!? ... I have been Dead several times, so many times it loses its luster, one would think .."

"But Na'Vir...."

Suddenly what he thought was a Dagger was Whipped At him, and as several Pinned him to the wall, without injuring him. He looked over at one of the weapons and again went wide-eyed as it was no dagger, but a shuriken style Spider -- throwing spiders, Animating to life .. a command is heard as the Spiders keep him pinned and the attacker approached

"Na'Vire is long gone ... never to be spoken of again ..."

"But You ..."

"... no Kelnozz. Once again, I see you had no faith in my skills .. I know you were one of the traitors years ago on that damned day .. I've known for a LONG time ... however, I've let you live .. not out of kindiness .. but out of necessarity .. and now, since no doubt you still keep your nose into everything here in Sshamath like you did in the past .. So i want you to tell me a story .." He grinned as he moved closer, his dark red eyes narrowing under the cowl of his piwafwi .. ".. you will tell me EVERYTHING that I need to know .."

for his part, Kelnozz knew he was in deep trouble as all he saw were those blood red eyes locked onto him before the darkness closed in on him ... after all, Valkryn always did have a flair for the dramatics ..

Translation: Vhaeraun be praised -- May your hidden hands continue guide my blades and the path

Having Gotten His Information .. and roughing up Kelnozz abit for his actions that Lead to Na'Vire's downfall so long ago, Valkryn stayed within the Shadows, Climbing up the Side of a complex, silently, his pace purposeful yet agile. Not a sound was made. Trained at the Shosuro school of the scorpion clan in the far east empire of Rokugan, he easily made his way up high above. Once he reaches his Distination, he Looks out of the Pumpkin Shape of the City, remaining with the shadows so not to be noticed. He felt he was followed earlier, but thought nothing of it for now, as whoever or whatever was following was clearly no threat .. at least not for now. He Climbed to the top of some Tower, Taking care to aviod the windows, Traps and Wards and such .. plus noting to make certain it wasn't some Temple or Wizards Tower ... as he reached the top, his barra piwafwi flowed in the slight warm underdark currents, the piwafwi itself blending into the shadows as if it was created from such .. and if one didn't know better, one would swear he was either demonic or a Undead shade.

He crounch along the Side of a spire, Looking out, Just for a few seconds, enjoying the view. Again his gaze turned back to the tower of the Masked Mage, as he quirked a brow in it's general direction. Surely, The Masked Mage would have been informed by now that he was back within the city. He pondered as he thought what the Mage would think of the Leader of the Militiant group of Vhaeraun being around .. and almost chuckled as a thought occured to him

"He's probably worried I am here for some sort a coup ..."

He slightly rolled his eyes at that thought .. unlikely .. let the Mage keep his Power base and position .. more power to him .. he didn't need nor crave it. He was an Instrument of War, a silent weapon in the shadows in service of his Lord, Vhaeraun -- Not a Politician. Besides, if He was so worried, he was certain the 'infamous' Masked Mage would seek him out soon enough to find out the truth ... He Looked around, Spotting the Bazaar in the Distance ... A smile etched across his features as he thought he might join Gia on her Shopping Trip ... He Leaped, Diving Down, Only to catch a ledge and, using his arcobatic skill and agility as well as his tumbling skills, he silently Leapt, swinging and guiding his way down towards the Bazaar, silently and with great speed -- as if he was some sort of Bird -- gliding thru the air, a arobatic display. Of course, it was not ment to show off, far from it as he kept out of sight .. who knows, perhaps he would run into that child who gave he and Gia that disgusted, scornful look when they arrived ... He was sure they both had questions .. as well as answers ...

(( OOC; Put this on a Slight Pause as Im dealing with a Family Tradgey .. Might Be Gone for a few weeks but will then respond and continue this ))