Consitil needs a little help from a most unlikely source.
Consitil looked into what this female was, what she looked like, some how knowing she was not one of these damnable drow. But he could not be certain, he had never met a drow before. He knew nothing of the drow, other than what elven mothers told their children of their darker cousins. Keeping his attention upon this female, daring no move movement, totally at her mercy. Even as she maneuvered her weaponry, he didn't budge. Not even when he heard the whip flick upward and cut away his hood, refusing to even flinch, or draw away from her. He refused to show this female any fear, or emotion to what was done, whether it was fear or panic which made him a statue against her methods. Everything was unknown to him, so he drew a mask of indifferent upon his face.
As she spoke, he smiled, he had a sarcastic word on his tongue, but quickly dropped it. Consitil was cynical, sadistic, and spiteful, but not a stupid fool. "I had no idea I was in the Underdark. You see, my companions, and I were ambushed on the surface. I'm surprised to find myself in this place." He looked to the bodies, "They tried to torture one of my companions," he looked back to her, "she has disappeared, I don't know where to. But I killed them. " Pointing down at the corpses.
Consitil did not possess any weapons on himself. This female had no way of telling how he managed to take on these three drow, and down them all by himself. Silently, he wondered if she was capable of sensing the magic within him that he used to take the drow down. Eyes narrowed in indifference once again.
She had to notice his anger from losing his ability to cast magic, he was without his spell components. And he was certain she would feel the void of emotional ways. Waiting now for her 'judgment.' She was his judge, jury and executioner, or perhaps his savior? The next few seconds would tell the tale of Consitil the Black Robe.
She hardly noticed his emotionless trials or tribulations, he was of no concern to her. He would be there to answer whatever was required of him. He was a male after all, that would be the case if it had mattered to this one.
In the culture of Drey that was the case, but she had been long away from their clutches and noted all, they did to their males with disgust. With a swift, and graceful gesture of momentum, the female withdrew the blade, sheathing it upon the leather encasement at the right thigh, toward the backside. Ghostly eyes never left his, as she began to speak in a neutral tone. , "I doubt your female will be alive much longer. If you seek to find her, you can go along. I am not here to find your mate . . . I am here to escape. "
The drey moved to pass his form, shove past if need be. "You can follow if it is your intent to escape . . . "Her warning words given, as she shoved into him, the dagger was removed. One of them was quite twisted, and longer than most (kurki). The blade was pressed into his arm by the hilt's ending, so she held the pummel out for him to take. "Take this . . . " With that she moved to get past him, and drop the weapon if he hadn't enough sense to take it.
There was only one place for the female he spoke of to be, and that was the torture chambers more than nine layers deeper than they were now. Either him or his companion touched that trap door, and sent her straight down to her fate. 'Fools! Didn't they know to check for traps, and if not the capability to do such? Not to touch it?' She continued to think on, what a bunch of idiots Consitil, and his party must have been.
Thoughts whirled within her mind, as she turned down to face the left corridor, to either leave him, or lead him to her chosen course. No more words given to the male. This female's mind was set on departure. To get where she needed to go was in fact the same route Consitil needed to take. The very same that would help find them both the capital. She had sworn to submerge, and slay the ones that dared to kill off her entire village, and take other's as prisoners. It was all well known fact that drey was among the most prized slaves of the drow.
Rumors of the overtaking of Trokair's capital, made her utterly suspicious, that the one who destroyed, so much was in the place.
Consitil watched her out of the corner of his left eye, turning his body slightly to the right because he thought he had just heard something, but soon dismissed it. He managed to look back over at her as she approached him, holding some wicked blade out to him. Consitil hesitated to take it. She just dropped it, it did not fall for long, for he swiftly grabbed to snatch it out of the air.
Fondling the knife slightly, getting a feel for it, then chose to slide it into the sleeve of his black robes. He walked over into the general area of the drey, as she examined the door. Noticing a few bags, he examined them, only to find them to be bags of torture equipment, and unknown materials. Wonderful! Quickly he picked up the bags, stuffing them into his robes. Perhaps this stuff would come in handy till he found his stuff?
As she walked toward the corridor, his mind suddenly realized something. He reached out for her shoulder, taking it into his slender hand, grabbing her, and spun her around, "Wait!" his voice was whispered in softness, he didn't want to be to loud. Consitil took a step back, so not to be too, close to her.
"I must find my things first . . . I will not leave this dark place without my things. You must help me retrieve them!"His voice was commanding in a way, he wasn't asking her to help him; He was more or less telling her to. She had shown that personality to him, and thus in all fairness he caught hold of such attitude and used it right back on her.
Consitil had to get his things; his staff, spell book, spells components, and his master's feather. "These things are magical imbued . . . I need them. I must have them at any cost." Like his entire life he once again folded himself into one thing; He would give his life for magic.
Zar was about to reach for the pummel of another dagger, when the hand dared to touch her, and than use whatever strength he held to turn her, pausing her in her tracks. A growl escaped, an obvious sign she hadn't at all appreciated, liked, nor required his touch to stop her. In that case, the dagger was retrieved, with a flare of ungodly amounts of hate for those she ran from. This male was holding her from her means to the end. The dagger would be moved as she did. Just as he stepped back, with a flick of her wrist, that twisted blade was moved in for his face, glided over the left razor ended in to slice open his flesh. Yet the force wasn't so bad it would take more than two layers of his pale skin.
"Do not touch me again!" No yelling, just a simple measure of a warning. Tilting her head like an inquisitive beast, with flaring nostrils and an obvious need to get out of here, knowing exactly what the drow was capable of, this male was ignorant to it all.
"They have numbers. They are cruel. You wish to do anything for me to aid your pathetic, pale elven ass?" The blade was beginning to fall down his form. "A mage?" A cool grin formed, exposing her extremely white teeth, and two slightly fang-tipped ones.
"Not a very powerful one to lose his companion, lose his books, and seek to get aid from someone by offering nothing but your putrid words? Please . . . " With that, the drey moved to again walk right by him in the opposite direction-as in back toward that chamber they had been in. No words to tell him she was leading him to his things, tapping into "insight". A form of his magical signature within his touch to her shoulder, manipulated to find, or scry (psion ability) for the books, staff, and quill. Not yet anyway. Why ruin his whining?
Consitil narrowed his eyes, as the cold steel cut through his robes, slicing easily into his flesh. He jerked his head away from it and lifted a hand to touch it . . . no blood. She was good, he had to watch his step more about her. 'She said not to touch her? No fucking problem there! Bitch!' He thought, while stepping out of her way.
His eyes narrowed in hauty fury. "My pale elven ass . . . Can put your ashen ass right into the drow's hand, with nothing but a slight increase in the volume of my voice!",He sighed, "And I have absolutely no doubt you have the ability to slit my throat before I can utter a word . . . but believe me when I say, I'm not joking around with you. I would sooner have us both caught, and killed, rather then let you jerk me around like a dog on a leash."
Then to answer her insult to his power, "It's not my responsibility to keep my companions alive, that is theirs. And no, I'm not that powerful . . . yet." His eyes blazed slightly as he watched her travel to the back of the room, "All I require is your assistance in getting my things back . . . Then we can get out of this roach hotel, at your digressions. Will you help me or not?"His voice remained calm, his demeanor cool. His tongue flicking with a viper grip as it lashed at her, and dropped poison in her veins, awaiting her reactions. It seemed all he was doing was waiting on her bitchy, dark-elven ass.
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In this sixth, and final, episode of the Locus Poll nominated, international bestselling, Dragoneer Saga, King Richard, his Nightshade, and the legions of mudged dragons it controls, are coming to take the Mainland throne. Hold on to your dragon! A g
Consitil looked into what this female was, what she looked like, some how knowing she was not one of these damnable drow. But he could not be certain, he had never met a drow before. He knew nothing of the drow, other than what elven mothers told their children of their darker cousins. Keeping his attention upon this female, daring no move movement, totally at her mercy. Even as she maneuvered her weaponry, he didn't budge. Not even when he heard the whip flick upward and cut away his hood, refusing to even flinch, or draw away from her. He refused to show this female any fear, or emotion to what was done, whether it was fear or panic which made him a statue against her methods. Everything was unknown to him, so he drew a mask of indifferent upon his face.
