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The Sublime Overlord of the Realm
Kenosha glanced up sharply as Kat asked her question. So they've been here already. The thought was clear within her mind, as clear as the sound of a bell in a canyon. It was what the woman had been looking for, the high elf surmised, and her own reaction had sealed the information now. The half drow woman should have been clearly able to see that Kenosha knew others searching for the drow. It had been a shock for her when Narim had given her the name and she had that sudden sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She would have to cross Nyre and Lan, now her toady, once more. Kenosha sighed, dropping her gaze. They have been here then. Nyre'venon of House Helles and the hiskr bard, Tylan. I was hoping that I might beat them even with their lead if I but stuck with the fields instead of the road, but it seems that was not to be.

The high elf found a simple stool and seated herself upon it, drawing her back up straight as she looked once more to Katarina. This is not the way I would have had it, my lady. But nothing about life has ever been as I would have had it. I was in the great city when Bradogin found me. It seemed his seeress had beheld a vision. Collin blinked, unsure what to make of this sudden tale which had little to with Cammar, though he was certain now that she knew the drow woman that had pinned him down and threatened him with her sword. His hands trembled as they held his cup tightly so as not to spill the warm, flavored water. The drow's tipped head was bird-like and made Kenosha smile. I know this story may not make sense now, but it shall make some. The seeress had told the King of Gutter Town that he would die without the shield of an elven maid. A drow from the depths of night would come and claim that which belonged to him. He saved me from some ruffians in the street. I had gone to a place that I had not intended and found myself in trouble. So it was that Bradogin asked his favor of me. I would wait for a drow woman and lead her away to Taver's Crossing. It seemed simple. And I led her towards this place. But then, the incident with Narim was unforeseeable. I had no notion that he would place this obligation upon my shoulders. I had even less of a realization, until it was too late, that the drow was seeking the lover of a dead man. I have little wish to aid Nyre. She is a cruel, beastly woman with little sense of remorse or kindness. I wish she would face justice for goading Lan into destroying Narim. I do wish to do a kindness for Cammar. I wish to carry out a dying man's wish. I doubt either the woman or the hiskr know that I am here. I may simply be able to walk out unseen with the dawn. The druid sipped her tea, looking at the colored water in the cup, swirling the contents around. Now you know the whole of it. You may decide as you will what to do. It is up to you. I have neither the strength nor the desire to try to force information from you. I only come in seeking aid. If you will not give it, I shall simply have to try my luck elsewhere.

Cammar headed towards eastern region a month and a half ago, heading towards Taelothlorien to seek asylum from the cousins of the drow. He felt that the surface elves would be welcoming to him in his escape though he could not have been more wrong...


The joints in her hands pounded in time to the beat of her heart. Her palms were bruised, broken blood vessels colored her hands purple and crimson. Road dirt clung to her flesh, her clothing. The drow pushed aside her fears, her doubts. She narrowed her focus as she had been taught, drowning out the distractions of a jeering crowd, a darkening sky, and the pain in her body. Her vision hugged her opponent as if he were the only thing that existed in the world other than herself. Her mind rejected him. He should not exist in her world. As his hammer descended towards her again, her sword flickered up, meeting the solid metal head with a eardrum splitting screech as they skidded apart, Nyre stepping inside his circle. His weapon was for people at an arm's length distance or greater. Once inside the circle, he was only defended by his armor and the amount of space he could put between himself and her in the seconds it would take her to line up for a shot at something vital. Nyre was a surgeon on the battlefield. Her back was against his chest, her mouth curved in a delicate line that hovered between smug and evil. She tilted her blade away from the head of his hammer and swung her pommel back with great force, aided in part by the momentum of his own swing. The pommel and her fist crashed in between the man's legs. Rokus howled, spasmatically jerking away as if struck by lightning. He fell backwards and grabbed himself, his feet scraping against the earth. The drow, cool and placid like a deceptive lake's surface, strode up to him, her curvacious body swinging, teasingly tantalizing. She shook back her hair, her bare shoulders held proudly like her chin, one hand on her jaunty hip and the other hanging low as it gripped her sword. Yield to me. Her voice was a purr as she looked down at him.

Rokus whimpered, not true words coming from his mouth, his eyes filled with tears of pain as well as bright flashes of light from the pain in his manhood. Nyre's cruel smile widened. Looks like you need a lesson, male. She tilted her sword, sunlight caught upon its devastating edge. Too bad it'll be the last lesson you'll ever learn. The blade flashed again and, like a bolt of lightning, she plunged it deep into the hollow of his unprotected throat. She watched as his eyes widened and he glubbed something with his ineffectual mouth, the corners leaking blood and pink saliva. She twisted the blade and watched Rokus's inner lights go out. The crowd that had surrounded the fight suddenly stilled to complete and utter silence. Nyre didn't notice, nor did she care even though it might mean more violence.
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Into the Lighted Realm · City Randatria

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