"Pack your things and meet me at the Widows Bane Inn."


            It was funny how certain things had him remember the past. He found a note, much like the one he read so long ago, though this one was leading him to another tavern. He folded up the paper and turned it slowly within his fingers. How long had it been since he had first gotten something of this nature. A few decades. Centuries? Millennia? Resting back upon his bed he closed his eyes and placed the paper upon the table next to him. His mind then began to drift back. Far back.
            He flipped over the parchment, then flipped it around back to the other side. No name. No other message. Just these seven words and the symbol of his house; Claddath. Right out of the Academy and already getting some type of mysterious letters. His curiosity got the best of him eventually, and so donning his armor as well as his weaponry, he packed up some extra clothes, provisions and took what coin he had with him as well. The trip wouldn't take him long, perhaps an hour or two. Who ever it was within Menzobarranzan, exactly the same city he was currently in. Confident, proud, he walked like a man that knew he had been the top of his class and that many would be hard pressed to defeat him. To put it simply, he was cocky. He was young. Coming upon the building he glanced it over slowly then shrugged a leather clad shoulder just before he pushed open the door to head within. There was a bit of laughter within the room, the sound of clanking glasses and mugs. His people might be evil in nature, but that did not mean they did not know how to have fun. Heading over to the keeper he asked for a table and headed over to an empty one near the back so he'd be able to see who came in.
            "Food or drink?" The keeper stated, appraising him with a slow sweep of pin point red revealing the use of infrared vision. The light was low within the Inn, candles used though they were most likely magical so it wouldn't cause pain to the eyes. It was somewhat full, but not to a point where it would cause someone discomfort for being too crowded. He glanced to the keeper with a shake of his head, causing the man to press his lips thinly. "There's a minimum of one drink." This caused Istovir to grunt faintly. "Wine, then. Underdark." The man gave a slight nod and turned off to head to the bar. He saw something strange after a bit, a female servant. She must have been either of a low house, or no house at all. She was jeered at by some of the males, ones that most likely needed to get their frustrations out from being repressed by females. He didn't bother paying her any true mind, not really, even if she did bring his wine. From a glance he could tell that she must have been half Drow. She had the black skin and platinum hair of a Drow, though her eyes were a crystalline blue denoting human or surface elf blood. With a scowl he waved her off, sending her scurrying back to the counter. Taking up his goblet he swirled the contents slowly and glanced over the crowd again. Inwardly he began counting, keeping time of how long it was going to take for this mysterious person to show up.
            One hour turned to two. Two became three. He was on his third glass of wine by time he saw someone that might have been approaching him. Lifting his head he finally removed his helmet and quietly watched as the robed person neared only to brush past his table. Giving a faint growl he gathered up his helmet again as well as his pack and pushed up to a stand. Just as he turned around another figure approached, female. Her garb was incredibly affluent, donned in purples and blacks, normal garb for priestesses, though he didn't see any particular insignia proclaiming this. He could tell without touching the material that it was of rich velvet. Soft leather hugged each of her curves, splitting in some areas to reveal her sable skin beneath the wrap of equally dark hide. A silver skull leered from the center of her belt, and other skulls flanked, growing smaller toward the flare of her shapely hips. Considering there were nothing but males at the Academy except during his last months, he couldn't help looking upon the woman and letting his gaze scan over her form, at least discretely. One thing he noticed that stood out more than her garb was her staff. It looked to be of tarred wood, a brownish black with carving of screaming faces, locked within perpetual agony. Skulls also adorned the wood, though these were carved as well. Closing around the staff were her slender fingers, ungloved. The redness of her nails stood out from the rest of the darkness that surrounded her. Using this staff she pushed out the chair and lowered down, her movement causing him to lower. This must have been the person. Either that or he was once again targeted for his noble stature.


            It was hard to say just how long he was waiting for her to say something, knowing that if he was truly dealing with a priestess she wouldn't hesitate in using that staff on him, or if she had a snake whip beneath her cloak, that. The though nearly began to make his back burn from where his mother has viciously struck him. He was still irritated at the fact that she killed his favored riding lizard, just to prove that she could because he was male, but he did his best to simply ignore it. There was no use getting angry, especially when nothing could be done. The gift he had gained from Lothgar, his father, mad up for that in its own way. An ancient blade, one passed down several generations. It was a short sword made of the finest metal. From what he had heard it was stolen during a dwarven raid. It was on that sword's pommel that he rested his wrist within an unthreatening posture. She lounged languidly within the chair, one delicate foot rested against the table, the other crossing lightly. Pointing to the glass that settled upon the table he then pointed to the serving wench who nodded and headed off to get another chalice of the famous Drow wine. Then it was quiet again, not like the silence was shattered in the least. With the goblet in his hand, poised slightly in front of his face he went back to secretly watching her, only for her suddenly lean close to him and reach out taking up the medallion settled around his neck. One that held not only the family and house symbol, but as well as his status within the Academy. She met his eyes then, and he her own, only to look away as he felt the chain snap around his neck. The wench took his medallion!
            His hands had curled beneath the cloak he wore, tightening, then loosening slowly. Her features hidden still she looked over the medallion slowly, then tossed it upon the table. He quickly swiped it up, his action betraying his anger. She only responded with a faint chuckle, one that barely escaped the hood. "So I guess you are the one I am supposed to meet," he stated, his words dripping with caustic venom. There was yet another moment of silence, and if anyone looked in his direction his skin through the serpent sight would have glowed a steady red. He was barely keeping his irritation in check. "I am." Her voice was as soft as silk and even smoother. Nearly taken aback he tilted the goblet and drank down a swallow, one swallow that was almost choked upon as she pulled back her hood. She looked at him again and he could have sworn he was looking in a mirror. The facial features were like his own, except more feminine of course. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he scowled faintly at the smirk that rested upon her lips.
            "You act like you did not know you had a twin." There was mirth in her voice, and it was revealed by the way of laughter. He grunted and looked back down to his drink after making sure he wasn't going to start coughing. "I didn't."
            "We used to play a children, you realize." A pointed statement she danced her fingers across her brow, sweeping snowy strands over her ears and away from her brow. Even that held the same pattern of skulls that surrounded her waist. He shook his head lightly, truly not remembering much before the Academy. Especially 'playing' with a sister. He didn't know if she was being sarcastic or serious. "A sister.." He inwardly shrugged, shaking off the first discomfort that he had gained.
            "Did you expect it to be from anyone else?" Lifting a wan brow she regarded him then glanced to the half Drow just before snatching her goblet from the female and sending her off. He shrugged again, this time outwardly. "It could have been anyone from the house. I simply did not expect a sister. A twin sister at that. Did not think that was possible."
            "Nevertheless, I have a proposition for you. You know they are going to kick us out."
            "Who?"
            "Intelligence is not your strongest suit, is it?" Just as sarcasm was directed to her, she directed it back to him. He could do no more than simply look at her with a slight narrow of his eyes. Just because he was first of his class and soon to be the Weapons Master of the house, didn't mean he had the freedom to tell her off like he wanted to. She knew this, the smirk on her lips spoke it all. "Mother, and father. Oh, and you may speak freely."
            "The Matron and Patron," he corrected. She waved it off with a light flick of fingers.
            "Whatever. She fears the power I have," she stated confidently, then went on. "Because of this she sees me as a danger." If that was so, then why didn't she just kill her daughter, he thought, but left his words silent. "And you, you have graduated, what is there to do now? You have no priestess looking your way to draw you into a larger family, you have not even started to challenge 'the Patron' for his status. You are currently nothing but a little lowly male. Join the town guard, will you?"
            He had to keep from leaping over the table and choking the very life out of her, and that constant smug smile from her lips. His fingers slowly turned the goblet around then it was lifted for him to take a slow drink of the rich wine. Not once did she take her eyes off of him, those eyes that reminded him so much of his own, and he was beginning to get irritated by that, wondering what was on her mind. He would have tried to figure out, but her mental defenses against telepathy were too strong. "I could." He finally said and she rolled her eyes. "Oh, and get paid two gold a week."
            "I could become the Weapons Master of the house after Lothgar."
            Condescendingly she lightly slapped her hands to the sides of her face with a sharp gasp. "Make that four gold a week. Come now, dear brother, there is so much out there for you. Don't you yearn for adventure? To get out of this city and visit others?"
            "I was already planning to head for Ched Nased." He shrugged lightly and took another drink of the wine. She smirked lightly, flicking a lock of hair from her face and tucking it back behind an ear. "If you stick with me, Istovir, I can promise you power. Power beyond what you should have as a mere male. If you join me, then you could be a Patron of your own house." Around this time he was drawing slow designs upon the table with a fingertip laden with wine. He truly believed her to be mad, or seriously on some good herb weed. "I'm guessing that I have no choice in the matter. If I go to Ched Nased, you'll be going as well."
            "Correct," she conceded with a light nod. He grunted faintly. "Last thing I want right now is some woman following me around like a lost little kobald."


            A fire came into her garnet eyes and he inwardly flinched, but met her gaze steadily. "Lost.. little.. kobald? Your privilege of free speech? Is ended, boy." He narrowed his eyes lightly but didn't say a word, only went back to drawing on the table. He felt a little triumph in irritating her, especially after targeting his intelligence. Or lack there of. So he wasn't the most intelligent person at the time. He was a fighter, a warrior, not one to use their unlimited intelligence to cast spells. Tapping a nail slowly against the table he shook his head and looked out over the crowd. A few men were giving the half-Drow a hard time. 'Good,' he thought. She deserved it. He didn't have any reason other than she was female. About this time he was disliking that whole gender. "Come. I have a room here."
            He glanced over to her briefly then gathered his things as she slid like a serpent from her chair to raise to a languid stand. Keeping from looking in her direction as she walked he followed while she headed across the inn and toward the stairs that would take them to the second level. Easing a few white strands over an ear he took another glance over the tavern proper then turned back to her. The room wasn't far, and when the door was opened he saw immediately that the females tended to get better rentals. The room was large, filled with a bed, table, a couch or two. It was much, much more than what he would have gotten. Tapping the butt of her staff once to the ground she waved it over the room and the candles that laced the walls in certain areas lit, casting a dim light over the room, magical light that didn't bother his sensitive eyes. She then pointed to the couch for him to sit. He took to the couch, dropping his pack to the ground. Removing his helmet he rested it aside then began to kneel down, only to see her delicate fingers flick to the seat. She had lain over two-thirds of the couch, leaving the rest of it for him to settle. He was momentarily taken off guard when the now bare ball of her foot rubbed seductively along his groin.
            He was taken back a moment. Back to the last days within Arach-Tinilith. He along with several other males were brought into a circular room, lit with reddish and purple hues. A brazier in the middle flickered with unholy light, casting a thin smoke within the air. His senses reeled as the scent was drawn into his lungs and expelled slowly. He was dazed, drugged, then he felt that very same sensation. The heated tip of tongue flickered against his thigh, then higher, nearly causing him to buckle. It was strong training that kept him from collapsing upon the priestess that was enveloping him warmly. Hedonism at its best. Days after days of nothing but mind manipulating herbs and incense, passions that went out of control, ones that were indulged within time and time again. No, he wasn't pure when he was given to his first mate. Not in that way. Once out of Arach-Tinilith and out of the Academy he was a new man, a different Drow. He might as well been considered reborn and pure in that instance. He was then drug back to reality by her voice.
            "I could see to it that you are given all that you have ever wanted. To be patron of a house, to have many wives."
            He cut her off then with an uneasy laugh. "Wives? Now I know you must be dreami--" His own words were cut with a deep groan as she kneaded skillfully, finding a spot to draw that reaction. Clearing his throat he looked away from her and straight toward the wall, trying all he could to ignore what she was doing to him. "No, not dreaming. There is adventure out there, Istovir. Have you ever wondered what was beyond these walls of Menzobarranzan? Beyond Chad Nased? Beyond Underdark? There is power out there, power that is waiting for the both of us, my dear brother." Another faint groan escaped and she starved off, ensuring that she had his attention. "I can listen without you treating me like a breeding stud." A slow smile turned up the corner of her mouth and she curled up from the arm of the couch to slink closer to him. It was then when he felt the soft touch of her lips, then her tongue's tip against his ear. He curled his fingers slowly within the leather of his armor. "Breeding stud?" She breathed gently into his ear, "hardly. Haven't you ever imagined what it would be like to do what you wanted without being chastised?"
            Unsure on if he should believe her or not, he didn't say anything or even moved, or at least tried not to. It was the slow grinding roll of her foot that caused his own rocking movement against it. Resting his head back he closed his eyes, tightly and felt her lean back again. She was testing him, and doing a vicious job of it too. Many men were manipulated by females, and by what passion and pleasure they can promise. He was turning out to be one of them. "You have my attention."
            "So I see," she purred and soon felt a light tug to his arm. "Come here." He cracked open his eyes and side glanced to her, seeing her inviting him to rest upon her. Swallowing slowly, mostly to dampen his dried throat, he turned, unable to resist and drug himself upward toward her thighs. She stopped him with a press of her foot against his sternum. "But first, undress. We are here to relax, to talk. That armor is uncomfortable, and I will not have it ruin my gown if you are to rest against me." Scowling faintly he pulled away and did just that, removing the studded leather but ensuring that he kept his normal clothing on. Before he could even settle down again she drug him near, pulling him snug between the lithe hold of her thighs. The upward nudge brought him to stiffen. In more ways than one. "You, like this. Tell me you do not feel the power. The control. If you join me, Istovir, we can find these magical things, these artifacts. Become stronger than we are now. Cunning, dangerous. You deserve to be Weapons Master, over that damned Lothgar. You deserve anything you want." The last words were given softly, a seductive whisper that laced over the surface of her twin's lips.
            He could barely think straight, which was exactly what she wanted. She was using his weakness against him. Wouldn't she be thrilled to know of how he would be in the future? Apathetic, unable to be swayed by the promise of sex. Breaths come in soft shudders, as well as caressed along the length of his back. She kissed him then, deeply, making sure that the spell she weaved would remain, and strongly. Everything wasn't completely an act. She wanted him, this much was obvious, and even more so when she began to strip him of his clothing.
            The night was long, filled with undeniable passion. It seemed neither of them could be sated. It wasn't until later in the day when she had left the inn and he as well to go down and get something to eat. When he returned she was there cleaning off her hands, muttering something about their coin being stolen. Just wonderful, he had stupidly pooled his coin with her own, all two hundred gold, and now it was gone. She kissed him on the side of his neck where she had bitten before at the height of lust, he hissed in a breath and released it with a growl. "No worries, I know of a way to get coin. Come." And thus their adventure began.


            It was a shoddy building. The stone that it was made out of was slightly crumbled and weathered away with time and other unknown elements. Why she chose this place he had no idea, but she walked right on in as if she owned the establishment. He glanced over his shoulder, toward where home would be, then looked forward again, meeting the crimson eyes of his 'partner.' With a faint grunt he stepped into the building as well and let the door close behind him. He almost expected it to grow quiet, but it didn't. It remained just as rowdy as it was when they first walked in. By the looks of the place it almost seemed like a hell hole those of Bregan D'aerthe might inhibit. In the center of the room there was a deep, circular pit with a gate around it where someone was currently being pummeled by another dark elf. He looked at her curiously and she gave him a reassuring flash of a grin then headed off after motioning him to settle within a sit.
            It wasn't long before she returned and rested down next to him with a self satisfied smile on her lips. "If we wish to gain gold it is easy." She then looked at him, that smile turning to a full on grin. "All we have to do is fight someone and win." He figured that's the reason why she brought them in this place. All he could do was shake his head with a sigh. It would be too easy, he believed, and so without much argument he unshrugged his piwafwi from his shoulders and headed off to find the one that controls these fights. If you really wanted consider them controlled. The man looked him over slowly then motioned him into the pit, to which he entered with yet another glance to his sister. For some reason that grin she held disturbed him, and he found out just why it did when he turned back around.
            Before him stood the ugliest, and biggest half orc he had ever seen in his life. It didn't wear much armor, but considering the thick bumpy skin of the creature it didn't need much. It held a massive club in one hand and had wicked claws on the next. The half-orc looked down toward Istovir, way down, and gave a bellowing laugh. "This be too easy. Give Mattok real challenge!" Stoically Istovir looked upon his opponent, searching for vulnerable areas, as well as trying to figure out if this thing was a male or female. It snorted through a bull-ringed nose and slapped the club within one hand only to suddenly swing it. The first strike missed and brought the dark elf into a forward roll, a roll that was ended with a quick poke of short sword into the things belly. Nothing happened. At least not until the Drow found himself flung back against the cage with the sudden force of the clubs backward swing. He slid down, groaning faintly.
            The beast laughed again then stalked forward with determination. It was going to finish off the dark elf with that club, turn him into mush. Unfortunately Istovir had other plans. The half-orc didn't catch the sudden fire that came into the garnet gaze of the Drow, nor did he truly see the man move until it was too late. The sword made quick work, lunging upward, beneath the beasts jaw, through his head and up out of the top of his skull. The slender elf then found his form trapped beneath nearly three hundred pounds of orc. All went black soon after.
            Four days had passed by time he finally woke up. Never had he been hit so hard, and he had proof of that battle by the lump on the side of his head and the stitches near his temple. His hair was no longer soiled red, but now gleaming with the normal snowy sheen thanks to the 'loving' care of his sister. His vision was blurred when he came to, finding the woman slouched against the couch sleeping. He was within the bed and truly had no plans to move, not with everything feeling strange. His head felt like it was filled with cotton and it swam with pain. He noticed that there was a vial next to him on the bed and by the light blue color beneath the faint flicker of a candle he could tell what it was. Without much hesitation he reached over and popped the cork of the healing potion to imbibe a good portion of it. All of it. Resting back again he began feeling the healing properties kick in the moment he closed his eyes. He went back to resting, knowing he'll need it for this trip of theirs. Especially if she was going to continue trying to get him killed.