Friendly Conversations
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Selinthia Avenchesca
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"So,' the wizard said, 'that is what happened."

"Yes. I would not say it, if that were not what had happened," the warrior replied.

"Ah, but I enjoy indulging in common repeat phrases. You know, Zaknafein, it would never be expected of you. Despite your belief in the rightness of what you did, you were commonly regarded as a self-righteous, blasphemous, bastard. A very dangerous one, to boot."

"I know very well what I was regarded as. I did not care."

"Oh and how you made it known. However, to give your life for that of another drow. Remarkable."

"He is my son. And he shares my ideals. To an extent."

The wizard chortled viciously and replied, "You mean, he won't indulge in your little slaughter orgies."

The warrior shot a irritated look at the wizard, eyes that were blue, beneath infra-vision red, flashing the fire that defined his spirit.

"The way I chose to express my beliefs were the most efficient in the manner of doing something about it. What is the use of believing in something if you take no action?"

"Of course. But, I take it that was not the end?"

"No. Of course it was not the end. You know Malice. She never could resist the chance for an irony, and if a struck a blow in our battle, so much the better."

"Your battle? So, that silly little game you played with her continued on?"

"Silly little game it may once have been, but we both allowed it to escalate to such that was a control battle over more than three centuries, expressed in our every word, thought, and action toward each other. It grew so wearisome. Vierna was our first major game-piece. Our daughter. Malice won that round. Drizzt was the end. I won, but I lost my life. Of course, the game piece took on a life of his own. Drizzt is a very stubborn person," Zaknafein said, almost a chuckle.

The wizard's eyes widened at the warrior. "Oh sheesh, is that fatherly pride I hear in your voice? Truly, anything is possible. I never would have believed it."

"There is much you do not believe."

"There is much *you* do not believe, so don't go spouting mantra to me."

Zaknafein glared intently at the wizard for a long moment, and then burst out in sudden, unexpected laughter. "Yes, like the fact of my becoming friends with a tiefling wizard, those centuries ago. Planar concerns and time differences or not, you managed to find time to visit Menzoberranzan once and a while. But, I digress. She brought me back, as a spirit-wraith."

"Oh hell, I can just picture that. I'll just bet you went on merry slaughter then."

"Yes, though not of my own free will."

"Not that you would have disapproved had it been," the tiefling muttered.

"You paint me carelessly. I do not kill mindlessly, and indeed, that was a mindless spree."

"Uh huh. So, what happened?"

"She tried to force me to kill my son. I broke free before that could happen, and destroyed my physical body by throwing it into a lake of acid. At least, so I thought that would happen. What I didn't know was that the acid, though real, had been embedded with portal qualities. It did not destroy, but rather, when I was engulfed under it, transported me, still undead, but with my own will regained, to the Planar Circle. I originally appeared in Limbo,' he suddenly paused, and scowled, "I hate Limbo. Chaos upon chaos. I would love to straighten them out--"

"Zaknafein, you would love to straighten all chaos out. You have an extreme obsession with order. Ever though of universal domination and correction as a solution?" the wizard queried only half-amusedly.

Zaknafein snorted ruefully and said, "Once or twice. I doubt I'd get there."

"That never stopped you before, in things you wanted."

Both sets of eyes met, mirth shining. Zaknafein swirled the wine in the cup before him about, not drinking. Undead bodies don't usually take well to wine.

"So, you don't look like much of a wraith to me."

"I've always though that wraith was a bit of a misnomer," Zaknafein stated calmly, his solid and not at all wraith-like hands spreading out the table before him, slender ebony fingers stretched forward as though grabbing for something.

"Oh ya," the tiefling snorted with laughter.

Both fell silent for a moment, reflecting upon things, seated within a tavern in the planar city known as the Cage--Sigil, City of Doors.

"What are you doing now?" the tiefling questioned the friend he had not seen in long centuries, until now.

"Mercenary work. Carefully selected mercenary work," Zaknafein look said more than need be said aloud.

"Ah," was all the tiefling said in reply.

"And you?" the drow questioned.

"I have a mage shop in the Cage here. I'm getting too old to travel with my services. The multiverse seems a lot larger than it used to be. Of course, you've just started to discover it. It seems we've switched places. I've stopped traveling the universe, and you've started. I'm stuck in one city now, and you've stopped being stuck in one city. I've lost my youth, and your elven vitality has been frozen forever in undeath. Ironic."

Zaknafein regarded the wizard with a thoughtful gaze, and spoke with a low, steely voice.

"Yes, Ironic."

End