[The cooking fire and torches kept the cave comfortable. The elvenwoman slept soundly, her golden locks peeking out from under the dark colored winter cloak used as a blanket. From outside, the winds whistled through the canyons and crags of the moutains. Snow fell in walls of white, but all of its fury and chill could not invade the small natural sanctuary. The woman was not alone. Next to her lay a elven man, but his coal colored skin and crimson eyes marked him as a Drow, one of the more feared beings known amonst sentient creatures. He rested calmly, looking up at the cave ceiling, his mind mulling over many things and many thoughts. The Drow felt deeply for the sleeping woman, for even the sinister red gaze softened when he watched her breathe rhythmicly, completely comfortable with the Dark elf watching over her. It was a strange couple, the contrasts of the elven race. Trish embodied the typical elven woman, honey color hair, fair skin and elegantly pointed ears. Thaxys was the same of the Drow. His hair was white, like the snow, and his skin as dark as the moonless night. By all rights, these two should not be, Darkness and Light, the one the ancient enemy of the other, but here, in the realm of nightmares where much more horrible things hid in the night, Thraxys and Trish could be.
He continued staring up at the ceiling, listening to the wind and the gentle sound of sleep. He knew he should take reverie soon, so to rest his body, but his mind was alive and active. He had seen horrors tonight in the depths of the Dwarven mines. He fought things that turned his steel, as if he was hitting stone. All his training and skill was nothing against those creatures. It was not enough, he needed weapons of enchantment. It was not so easy here, not as it was in the underdark. The very ore they used to forge their weapons carried with it a powerful energy. It was natural and could easily be formed into armor and weapons. He remebered the fine scimitars he once carried, their edge deadly sharp, and their balance superb. Now they lay far at the bottom of the vast chasm. Ched Nasad, his home city, once was suspended above it by the webs of giant guardian spiders. They were gifts from Lolth to bless the city, but even they fell in the attack. The giant web walkers were clumbsy and awkward without the natural environment. The Dreugar swarmed upon them like flies on a corpse. He missed those blades, but the silvered rapier and short sword were fine weapons by common standards. They were well balanced, and effective against most, but useless against the Gargoyals and foul things that lurked below the mountain.
He thought about the horrible picture Trish painted for him as a "what if" situation. The thought of her beaten and killed at the hand of the humans made his soul burn. She asked him, "what woud he do?" and the shear rage that came to his mind shocked even himself. Revenge was his reaction to the painful "what if", and that was a concept familiar to him but not the reasons behind it. Vengeance was common. One Drow countered anothers plans, and for it came retribution. But this was revenge, not for personal gain or satisfaction, but for the desire to punish those who dared to take one whom he cared for from his life. The feeling was fierce and firey, an all consuming flame. He spoke his mind openly, he knew he would make those suffer for thier actions, he knew that the offspring of those involved, wether born or not yet dreamed of, would suffer for the actions of their parents. He would make the blood flow like a river to punish those who would dare to take Trish from this world.
Her backhand had brought him back into the now. She was not dead nor in danger of it. The iron flavor of blood tainted the taste buds on his tongue. It had been a test, he knew it, and he fell into her trap like a novice. She wanted to know, and she did not want her memory to be stained with so much murder. The sting of the blow faded, but her words echoed in his ears. "Say your farewells and Calmly move on." was what she wanted him to do if such a day would come. The idea of such a peaceful passing in the light of such a horrible death was against his very nature. He could agree not to commit genocide upon the offending race, but, justice would be served, that he promised.
The conversation had ended well, with peace of mind for both. There was some playful teasing, and finally they both chose to rest this night. So in coming full circle, Thrayx lay next to Trish, the call of Reverie demanding his attention. With the last reminants of consciousness, he turned to his journal and wrote.]
((Translated from Drow))
Weakness, foolish foolish little drow, you are letting it get personal. Have you learned nothing? I can here Master Hune now, berating me for letting a female get so close and affect me in such away. Kill her before she kills you, but make it look like an accident, that would have been his advice. But this is not the underdark, this is not Ched Nasad. Trish won't sacrifice me to Lolth to prove her love for the goddess. Niether will Ruse, how is it that I spend 2 centuries without finding a female worthy of more than an evenings attentions, and here I have met many. Trish, Suzette, Joslyn, Mara, All worthy partners, on many levels.
I have seen the underdark of this realm, deep below the dwarven mines. I have seen things, some familiar, like a hooked horror, and slimes and sentient oozes. Ghaunadar, god of slimes, may have a place in this strange realm. I also saw at the very depths a place of stone and brick. It cannot be denied it was made instead of formed and the creatures that dwelled there used powers of the mind. I was strangely reminded of the Illithid, so foul are they I am thankful to have never dealt with them. I have seen them in the markets of Ched Nasad, purchasing slaves for their drone workers. The group I travelled with handled these things with great skill.
Note to self, keep Trish on your side Thraxys, she is a powerful warrior, and can use a whip better than most matrons.
We met another in the vile place, one named Bercy. Caliban is my guess by his size, but he changed into a troll before my eyes. A worthy ability, having only face a Troll once in combat. They are strong and any wounds inflicted not from fire or acid regenerate quickly. Bercy seemed a fair ally, and Trish seemed to trust him, even expect him.
[The Drow elf yawned deeply, and continued writing]
I have not seen Suzette in many days. I hope she is well. Trish assured me she was, but it will do my eyes well to see her again. Such a foolish follish drow I have become. let's hope it all pays off, there is not greater ally than that of a friend, they will sacrifice themselves for you. The question I must ask myself is, would I do the same for them?
[He stops writing and closes the book. Clumsily Thraxys ties the leather strap and puts away his ink and quill. Once all is secure, he finally lies back on his bedroll. Something new comes over him, something he never had done in his life. His eyes droop heavily, and without even a notice, sleep takes him, leaving all thoughts of reverie behind. His mind rests, and with it comes the strange world he never new existed. The world of dreams. ]
