"You, male.. hold there."
             A smooth and fluent Drow is what reached his ears, and he took immediately to a kneel. After all, he was dressed only as a simple soldier. The woman approached, guarded by two others, and stood before him. He settled his gaze upon her feet, shod within soft hide, then rose his eyes only to her knees before dropping them again. The trip through Menzoberranzan was droll. By time he had gotten there it was Narbondel's Peak; noon. What day he didn't know. He didn't have a time constraint on when this job was to be completed so he didn't worry himself over what day of the week it was, not until he got to The City of Shimmering Webs. There he would find out that information, and time how long it would take for the Matron and her beloved daughter to fall. It could have been days, maybe even weeks. He doubted the latter though. Feeling the fine touch of blade beneath his chin he rose it slightly and kept his eyes down as the woman looked upon him. Looked upon him as if he were fresh meat. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary.
             "Lazing away around the fountain, are we?" The tip tapped against his chin then was sheathed again as she shifted her weight, placing her hand against the flare of a curved hip. "Just a bit of rest before I go home, Lady." He had to change his accent, just a bit. For one dressed as he, he shouldn't have extensive education. And so his native tongue came harsh to the ears. Guttural. "Who are you?" Her words were forceful, commanding. She was one that was used to being obeyed without hesitation. "Rizzen D'arthius of house Teken'duis, Lady." He took a quick glance upward, catching a sigil. Ironic luck. Simply ironic. She was from that house. Zauviir. He then spoke out of turn. "If I may, so I will not disturb your presence anymore, Lady..." Trailing off, his hint was made. Unseen azure eyes flashed. The audacity of him seemingly wanting to get away from her so quickly. She snorted and gave a duo of snaps, bringing the guards behind her to attention. "No, you will follow me." Luckily he was able to keep his smirk to himself.
             Evanshalee and Nathrae will soon meet their ends.
             Waiting until her feet had passed him he rose to a stand and curled his fingers against the edge of the cloak to keep his hands in view at all times, as well as conceal the dual scimitars at his hips. It would not do well for them to be seen. Quietly he followed the woman, glancing over the city slowly as he did so. Every where silver shimmered, glistening from the torches that were lined in one place or another. People had to have amazing balance to be able to tread those webs. He might not have been highly experienced in that department, but he was adequate enough. Eventually they came upon a large estate, and with the parting of the guards they were lead into the building. A few hallways taken he assessed each of his exits, something he always did, even unconsciously. Upon entering a dining area he was able to see the two that needed to be beneath his blade. Nathrae lifted her head, settling her eyes upon the male that was being brought into the room with her daughter while she took her place next to her mothers side. He lowered upon a knee, draping a forearm upon the other that was risen aloft. The violet gaze of the woman traveled over his form slowly, then with a lifted brow she side glanced to her daughter. Zilvra leaned to the side, whispering to her mother, speaking what she knew of him while he remained absolutely silent, his head bowed.
             The questioning was simple. Who was he. Where did he come from. What is his business. Each question was given a suitable answer. His name was again stated, as well as House. The city was of Chad Nasad, just to keep suspicions low. And his business was just that of a simple soldier preparing to guard a caravan that was soon to go to the surface. This caught the attention of both of them; Nathrae and Zilvra. Come to find out the daughter was to go to the surface and she needed a guide. Luck be with him that he was chosen for the duties. Either do or die. Cynical humor might have had him smile if it was in his character. The agreement was not long in coming. After all he wished to keep his life, right? Beckoned to sit with the lesser males the eyes of the Matron remained upon him. Studying his noble features, the way he moved. None unlike a feline. Graceful, silent. It attracted the woman, and Nasid was furious. Before the eyes of others the favored male was treated like any other male. Though behind closed doors Nasid and Nathrae were lovers, almost equally treated. Venorik caught this and he used it to his advantage, especially when he was asked who his 'owner' was.
             "I have none, High Lady. The last who has claimed me as mate has been killed by a rival House."
             "Unfortunate. You were satisfactory then?"
             "I am alive, High Lady."
             That was enough to perk her interests further. If he was a terrible lover he would have been killed so long ago. Not only that, but he would have been killed if his Lady was. Not left to live to further plague Underdark with his presence. The corner of her mouth faintly rose and she shifted slightly, draping her lithe frame within the throne she was settled upon. Slowly her fingers began a trail against her dark mocha hued flesh. Nasid curled his fingers at his sides, quivering in rage.
             "Yes, I see that. Quite satisfactory I would guess."
             "I have yet to breed sons."
             He shrugged faintly and the opposing male gave a sound of fury before moving to the middle of the floor and lowering to a knee. Nathrae ignored him for the time, her eyes upon Venorik while his own eyes remained on Nasid. This was almost too much fun. The chaos that was going on within the male was tasteful to the senses. Apparently Nasid was furious because he had yet to do the opposite. While he was an adequate bed warmer, his genes just would not let him give his Mistress any daughters. Each of his sons had been killed. Not like he cared. He was, after all, a follower of Lloth, and it was to be expected. A soft sound of pleasure came from the woman and she motioned for a guard to near. Pulling from his position he approached and lowered down to listen to what she had to say. He was oblivious, but most likely knew what was going on. Bored, Zilvra lifted to a stand and walked toward the balcony that would allow her to look over a portion of the city. He followed her briefly with his discrete gaze then returned his attention to Nasid as the Matron spoke to him. He was angry, that much was obvious. Such a fool to let his emotions run his actions. He wouldn't be surprised if he was to be slaughtered after this night.
             Once he was dismissed, he found his "name" being called by Zilvra and so he stepped out upon the balcony with her as well. For a short time they spoke. He was to return to his home and gather up the maps he had of the surface and come back to House Zauviir within three days. As he turned away to head off a guard had approached him. It seemed the Matron wanted to see him once he had gotten his supplies. Continuing about his way he felt he was being watched. So it seemed the daughter was sending a scout to follow him, to see just where he would disappear to. No problem, she would be easily eluded. His travel took him down into the holds of the city, making his way in the direction of the slave sale. He made himself look interested within the captives around the cages and approached them slowly before his eyes alit upon something he didn't think he would see in the Underdark. At least not this part. And it wasn't a slave. An Uruk-hai. He.. she.. it seemed to be guarding the caravan. If this wasn't his chance to cause a distraction, then nothing would be.
             "What are you looking at, shorty?"
             "Mm, you are female, interesting. As for looking at, I am just wondering if there is more brawn than brains in that head of yours. By the complete sentence you made there is some minimal intelligence."
             Back and forth this taunting went until with an enraged roar she leapt at him, swinging the bludgeoning device for his head. He was quicker than she thought and ducked low, coming around to her side with a mocking, and feigned smile. Slowly she began to approach, and he backed up, purposely coming to a locked cage of about twenty kobolds. He hated those rats on two legs, but they could come in grand handy when he needed them to. Placing his hand behind him he jimmied at the lock that was holding the gate closed with a pick, and then slowly slid it free. Holding the lock in hand he ceased the apologetic words, only to offer a harsh insult which caused her to suddenly lunge at him. He leapt up, pulling free the gate and using her lowered shoulder as a foot step he pushed off and over her, also allowing him to kick her into the cage. Kobolds scattered, bringing havoc into the auction and sending Drow to scatter here and there. Locking the gate and the Uruk-hai within the cage he turned, sinking into the crowd to vanish out of sight. He could have sworn that he heard a cry of anger from his shadow.
             Sometimes it was just too easy.