Private Tales The Moonlit Night

[Alak Rasivrein]

Alak had only recently returned to the Drow - with mixed reception - but his time on the surface had quickly risen to the attention of those at the top of the food chain. The time he had spent there had familiarized him with the peoples, languages, and gave him a certain amount of immunity to the sun and its bright, horrible rays.

Because of this relative resistance, it had fallen into his lap to continue traveling the surface to make allies and scout paths for the army. But who would want to ally with a Drow? Most surfacers would have heard stories of the cruelty and self-serving nature of the dark elves, and wouldn't even consider such an alliance.

So Alak had decided that the correct route was to start with people who were either likeminded, willing to broaden their horizons, or were already involved in unsavory things themselves. Enter Alak's search.

Vampires, liches, undead or even a variety of the more violent orcs would all do the trick, as far as Alak was concerned. Not far from Bhathairk, Alak had begun his search. In the underbelly of the city where pirates and the most violent of orcs resided, Alak had heard rumors of a small camp of more unsavory individuals. All manner of the terrors that Alak was looking for were rumored to reside there. A haven for vampires and undead and Drow and all the other things he was looking for. Although small, it was just the type of place that might have the sort Alak was looking for.

With the sun setting and the moon rising, Alak set out along the dark path that was reputed to lead to his goal. The road - really more of a walking path - was partially overgrown in many areas and was mostly a wardened mud that stuck to the shoes after the recent rain, but if this wasn't a trap - a sizable "if" - he should have been arriving soon.

 

[Orla]

Once upon a time, she might've avoided these places like the plague it was. A backdoor where not even the bravest of the underworld and its denizens dwelled. Vampires were few but dangerous, and most crime bosses preferred to deal with them based on mutual interest and ambition. An unspoken rule of understanding that pervaded criminal society, and yet it was a cold understanding at best. When she was once breathing, she knew all too well who ruled the alleyways and sewers after midnight. It was their domain. No smart career criminal is going to step in their path, lest they ended up headless halfway down a drain.


Now the times had changed, and she found herself in a strange company with other vampires, not that she conversed with them or they paid her any attention. She was nothing really. Just a wretch looking for a drink in a place she would've never stepped foot in when alive. Drow, Orcs and all kinds of beasts resided here.


Orla took up residence at the back end of a booth along the bar side, a single candle illuminating her dark table as she tended to her possessions and sipped on wine. Not that she could taste it, but it gave a weird semblance of humanity to her life. She didn't need normal food either, but she still ate and drank to appear normal. It was one of the few precious things that reminded her of being human, even if she could not feel or indulge truly.

Alak Rasivrein

 

[Alak Rasivrein]

Alak strode into the small "town" which was little more than a gathering of a half dozen buildings, and found it was one of the only places where he wasn't the strangest thing in the streets. That was if you could even call the muddy footpath a street.

Alak's path took him into the small tavern and he pushed the door open. The smell hit him first, a mix of stale pipe smoke and ale that had become quite comfortable to him over the years.

He closed the door and walked up to the counter, slapping a trio of coppers down and ordering an ale as his eyes scanned over the room. In a place like this he saw mostly the regulars he would have expected: bruiser orcs, angry looking humans, and one person that he was fairly sure was a half-ogre all littered the seats.

There was one person that stood out to him above all the others: a human woman who looked far too normal to be in a place like this. Of course, he knew that looks could be incredibly deceiving, but that was just what he needed. If he needed just pure muscle, the drow had that in abundance. No, he needed someone who could be dangerous without looking threatening. This was precisely what he needed.

He snatched his ale off the counter and made his way over to the booth of the woman, sipping as he arrived. If he hadn't been in this place he might have taken a seat without asking, but here... well, something like that could get you stabbed. Or worse.

This doesn't look like your kind of place, he pointed out. He was anticipating a rude response, but perhaps it would be unusual.

Orla

 

[Orla]

"No. It isn't, I assume you're acquainted, however."


Her reply was abrupt and to the point, she didn't expect company nor did she really wish for it.On the other hand, she'd been starved of conversation the past few weeks on the run so it wouldn't of hurt to talk. She looked up at the talkative stranger; he was pale like she was and equally lost it seemed.


And yet, they were not quite the same. The man was one of those drow people, a mysterious collective who Orla had not much cause to interact with but she knew of them well enough. Gossip and tales in the taverns were plenty enough, a legend here and a scattered account of a roadside attack there. It was all the same, and as she learnt, drunk morons provided a better source of info than most. Ale loosened the tongue where money did. But ale was far cheaper; everyone knew that—anyone with a bit of wit that was.

"I guess you're on the road too? brave, the roads aren't too safe this time of year."

Alak Rasivrein

 

[Alak Rasivrein]

As far as Alak was concerned, any greeting that didn't meet with threat of physical violence was a successful approach, so while the woman's tone may have been a bit on the cold side, Alak wasn't too bothered.

Yes, it is, he agreed, though he knew that it was people like him that made the roads unsafe to travel. He was no stranger to banditry and raiding, and while bandits would happily prey on him as well, he knew that his magics were more powerful than most bandits he would pass on the roads.

With a conversation going, he decided to take a seat, despite not asking, and sipped his ale.

I'm traveling around and looking for likeminded people, he said, confirming that he was on the road, but dropping a hint that there was something more to his work than simple travels.

And what brings a girl like you to a place like this? he decided to ask. No point in dancing around the issue, though now in the shadows and closer on, he thought she seemed to look a bit paler than most humans he knew. Almost Drow-like in a way.

Orla

 

[Orla]

"A drink and a corner to reflect on my state i suppose, maybe write a poem about the state of this world."

Orla sarcastically remarked, putting her feet up on the table while she played with a few rusted coins while musing on what drink she'd buy next. Lager tasted like sewage around these backwaters, the mead was somewhat tolerable considering the lack of decent drink. Maybe it was to be wine again after all.

Back home, she had never been one to be fussy. She could drink like a Cortesi sailor and put half the tavern under the table if she wanted. But then the drinks in Elbion and Cortos was sanitary and probably not brewed in some shed out of the watch of the law.


"Likeminded people for what? what are you drows doing, raiding a village? drinking the blood of virgin maidens?"


The last part was a joke on her end, growing up in a predominantly human neighbourhood left you privy to many a half lucid rumour or clouded myth of the evil of elves. Orla could've probably recounted half a hundred varieties of the same stories of the Drow. But it didn't matter; the irony wasn't lost on her considering the state she was in.


Alak Rasivrein

 

[Alak Rasivrein]

Alak drank deeply from his mug before setting it down with a satisfying thunk on the table. He smiled and found her jokes to be relatively amusing.

Only on nights of a full moon, he said as she asked about drinking the blood of virgins. The fact that this was a joke about her own status didn't register with him, but what he did note was how she mentioned her own state and the state of the world.

Raiding villages sounds fun, he agreed, with a look that was supposed to sarcastically mimic thoughtfulness. In truth, she wasn't dreadfully far from the truth, though he couldn't simply come out and say that quite yet.

Making trouble. Isn't that always how it goes in a place like this? he asked with a smirk.

What kind of "state" are you in, then? he asked inquisitively. He was still interested in knowing what someone like her was doing in a place like this. There was more to this story, he was certain.

Orla