Prelude to a kill

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Zanvazez
Sojourner
Posts: 132
Joined: Sat Aug 17, 2002 5:01 am
Location: Hull, Quebec, Canada

Prelude to a kill

Postby Zanvazez » Sat Sep 14, 2002 6:50 am

this is my first story and there are some metaphores i use but i tried to realte them in Drowish terms... there are spelling mistakes (my excuse is that i'm a french-Canadian) ihope to amke this an ongoingthing, i hope you nejoy, i think i did. :P

p.s. it's quite long... sorry.

Born the 5th of 5 brothers and the 8th of 8 House children, his mother died at child birth. His skin was much paler than a drow, his hair much darker and his eyes a dull disapointment. "He will be in the shadows, always" his father remarked. Although his room was large and he was offered many luxuries, it remained unfurnished save for a simple bed and dresser. When in his room, he usually blocked the door shut with the dresser. Not much of a defensive device he admited but, it would give him an extra second to react to any intruders. slowly, as the years progressed, he came out of his secluded room more and more often to wander the House complex. He spent many nights hiding in the human slave quarters, spying on them, listening to their language. He did not like speaking. This fact brought him closer to his older brother Zeraz 4th born of 5 brothers and 5th of 8 House children. Zeraz was a priest of Vhaeraun and as such often had to conduct his business in secret. He tought his younger brother the secret sign language of the Drow. Zanvazez, his fingers being neither long and thin nor short and stubby, had a tremendous ease learning this language. He almost exclusively communicated in this way. One day, he decided to venture out of the security of the House walls and into the city. although frightened, he knew the shadows well enough to find comfort i their "arms".
He wandered the city for quite some time before coming upon two others in an alley way, one was about his age and the other probably twenty years his elder.
"Hello." he said, as he emerged from the shadows. The two boys looked startled, as if being caught beating a slave without permission. "What do you want?" said the younger boy as he advanced on Zanvazez. "I was just saying hello..." he noticed that the boys had was reaching for something, within the folds of his small cape, "I'll leave if you don't want me here."
"No," grinned the older boy, "you can stay." The smaller boy seemed to to be slighty more at ease now.
"I'm Zanvazez. and you are?" He stuck his hand out, a gesture he had seen the humans do when they met new people.
The two boys looked from his hand to each other before the older one broke the silence. "What are you?"
"I don't think i understand..." Zanvazez answered.
"What race are you?" sneered the older boy.
"Well, i'm Drow, of course." he answered, slightly confused.
"No you aren't,' said the younger boy, "we're Drow. See how our skin is pitch black and our hair is white?"
"Yes," seconded the older one, "and you skin looks like... well, like stone as does your hair and eyes!"
"YEAH! You're grey all over!" the smaller one shoved Zanvazez. with the shove, the back of his knee hit a broken crate and Zanvazez fell onto the dirty ground where refuse and worst were scatered about. "You look more like a half-breed than a Drow." taunted the younger one. "Really? I thought he looked more like a human."
As he tried to get up, the older boy kicked Zanvazez in the face while the youngr boy drew what he was originally going for: a rather heavy looking dagger.

Holding his side, Zanvazez fled through the maze of streets, he could still hear the boys laughter as they beat him and cut into him. His nose was bleeding as was the corner of his left eye; he was limping heavily on his left leg, his right side, which is the one he was holding, was bleeding from a deep cut while he was sure that some ribs were broken on the opposite. But still, he managed to keep to the shadows.
"Father..." He cried as he opened the door to the study. There were three people in the room, his eyes darted to each one. He recognized his uncle, the weapons master of the house, His older brother Zsasz 2nd born of 5 brothers 2nd of the House children who had no doubt come to talk about his studies at Sorcere with Father and, sitting behind a rather official looking desk, Father himself. "Father," he sobbed in relief, "help me. I don't know what to do."
"What is it?" said the leader of the House. "What do you want?" The question cut through him like a freshly sharpened blade across a third born son's throat. "Could he not see what has happened to me?" he thought. He was speachless, waiting for his father to say soothing words to make everything better. But the words that came instead cut straight to his heart.
"You come to see me for such unimportant matters?" His Father stood and slowly walked over to him. "Have i tought you nothing?" the words were punctuated by the back of his hand hitting Zanvazez square in the jaw. "Can you not handle your own problems?" again. "Do you not know what it means to be a Drow?" again. "To be an Ark'Henneld?" again. Zanvazez fell to his knees.
"As of this moment, you may never study magic, you may not vie for the position of Weapons Master, that is for you brother Felvaz and he alone and you may not join the clergy of Vhaeraun and the worship of Lloth is forbidden within this House. We will teach you what it is to be an Ark'Henneld. Now go see your brother Zeraz or Zegaz to help you clean up."
"Zegaz is not my brother," Zanvazez said defiantly, "he's my cousin."
The patriarch, his eyes groing wide, with one swift motion, lifted Zanvazez and slammed him into the wall then let him drop to the floor. "And we will teach you to respect your House Elders." Out of the corner of his eye, Zanvazez could see Zsasz grinning like a madman. "He's enjoying this." He thought. "Now leave." ordered his father. "We have things to discuss and you... are not involved."
His tears had stopped, a cold look now gripped his face as Zanvazez lifted himself off the floor and quietly left the room.
His father smiled that of a content Drow.
Zanvazez, until that moment, had never truly understood what being a Drow meant, how truly alone one person could be, even when surrounded by family, by "friends". He had quickly learned new emotions: hatred, vengeance, bitterness, emptiness and absolute solitude. He did not go to his brother's room, nor to his cousin's instead, he went to his own room, closed the door and placed the dresser in front of it.

Ten years had passed and Zanvazez was now sixty years old. He was to begin training at milimagtheer under the direction of the High Soulthief; House Ark'Henneld needed a Velg'larn, an Assassin. All these years, he had been preparing for this day, for this position. All influences he had were gearing him for the soul purpose of killing. He repressed most of his emotions and the ones he truly felt were of hate. The Soulthief woul build on this.
The next few years were spent studying anatomy, poisons, weapon training, the shadows and how to be one with them and, the trickiest part for a true assassin, the art of noise. Anyone could make noise and many could make none at all, the true skill was in making just enough noise so it didn't sound like at total abscence of sound. Zanvazez caught onto this concept slowly, but with time, it sunk in... everything does.

He stood outside the Warmaster's chambres. He had been summoned. You always answered his summons, he was, after all, the
administrator of milimagtheer. He was let in by one of the guards who announced him.
"Ah, young Ark'Henneld," he smiled, but with his mouth only, "just the rogue i wanted to see."
"You sent for me?" Zanvazez nodded.
The Warmaster's face went stark cold. "Yes i did." he said icily. "Your teacher said you were making good progress over these last five years, i wanted to congratulate you on that." "You know," he continued, "I have profound respect for your father, your uncle and of course for your House and how they operate." There was a long, awkward pause, Zanvazez didn't know if it was his turn to talk. "And for that reason," the administrator finally said, "instead of killing you, I will only have you torured for one week. Next time, show me the respect I deserve boy." And with a quick hand motion said: "Take him away."
Eight of the interior guard advanced on Zanvazez whose look turned from nervousness, to vengefull hatred in a fraction of a second. He drew his boot dagger and threw it at the closest guard hitting the man right above the adam's apple causing him to fold to the ground like a pile of dirty close. Zanvazez then went for the second closest guard and thrust his sword down between the man's throat and collarbone. The guard let out one final whinnig squeel before passing on.
Now that he was weaponless, th guards moved in on him faster another four joining the csue for their two fallen comerades.
They promptly beat him. lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, Zanvazez heard avoice say: "make it a month. let him beg for death" then he blacked out. The guards draggd him, bleeding and unconscious, to the stocks, for a month of his own personal hells.
Three weeks had gone by, they had opened him up and reclosed him half a dozen times "for the sake of experimentation" the torturer said. he seemed to take great pride inhis work. Zanvazez was naked, spreadeagle and tied to a metal contraption which allowed for no movement of his limbs whatsoever. Four times a day, he wound receive thrity second jolts of electricity. he was battered, he was bleeding, the sweat burned his cuts, his mouth was dry, his lips were parched his bones were acking and most, he was almost sure, were broken. He had whip marks accross his body and the sting of blood and sweat in his eyes was a constant, and now dull, pain. His eyes were perpetually filled with tears but hte louded sound to be heard from him during these weeks were grunts from the whipping and every now and then, when he found the strength he'd tell them how he was going to kill them or simply repeated the words "i'll kill you all" over and over again, until the pain would be unberable and he'd pass out. They could beat him, but they couldn't break him and that made it all the more interesting for the torturer.
When the month was over, the torturer simply cut the cords holding Zanvazez up and he fell heavily to the ground. He lay there a few minutes, trying to move his limbs. Since they hadn't move much in the last month, every attempted movement was sheer agony. He found, however, that his left hand couldn't stop twitching. He tried defiantly to stand on his own, to support his own weight, but it was no use. Two gurds dragged him to his room at Milimagtheer and threw him onto his bed, dropped his clothes on the ground and closed the door behind them.

Now, ninety seven years old, Zanvazez stands an even five feet tall, his wiry buil is uslay concealed under his cloak. He's standing in the mouth of an alley, leaning on his left shoulder. Two familiar shapes move through the streets and into an alley not too far away from where he is. He straightens himself and runs his left hand through his short, grey unkempt hair. A passerby looks in his direction to see only an empty entrance to an alleyway.
He comes out of the shadow in the alley where the two men are, clenches his left fist once for a few seconds then starts signing. "greetings" "What do you want?" says the younger of the two, reaching for his sword. "I was just giving you my greetings." he signed. The older of the two men takes a few stps forward. "I am a graduate of Sorcere and do not have time for you, away with you." He says in a smug tone. "You might not remember me," signs Zanvazez, "but i remember you."
UZanvazez closes his cloak and slowly reaches for his dagger and short sword. "I just wanted to confirm this for you," he says. "I am neither half-bered nor human..." The looked of recognition crosses both mens faces simultaneously but it's too late, the younger man gets a dagger hilt deep in his eye. As the mage turns to face Zanvazez he receives a short sword between his ribs punctuating his lung. He spits up blood as Zanvazez brings him closer. "...I am Drow."

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Zanvazez Ark'Henneld
Qu'ellar Ark'Henneld Velg'larn
Zanvazez
Sojourner
Posts: 132
Joined: Sat Aug 17, 2002 5:01 am
Location: Hull, Quebec, Canada

Postby Zanvazez » Sat Sep 14, 2002 6:58 am

ARGH!! many mistakes... please check other one... ah crud, if you're reading this ist's too late. it's really just the lsat paragraph though...

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Zanvazez Ark'Henneld
Qu'ellar Ark'Henneld Velg'larn
Nilan
Sojourner
Posts: 689
Joined: Fri Feb 02, 2001 6:01 am

Postby Nilan » Sat Sep 14, 2002 8:34 am

Nice story none the less Image

Enjoyed it.

Keep writing

Fun huh

Nilan Image

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