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[Marek Marlou]

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The harsh life of a drow male in the underdark...

The sudden trip to Sosaria...

The year of solitude from his kind...

The sash...

And the letter.

Marek lay sprawled out in his bed at the Wailing Banshee Inn in Umbra, staring up at the ceiling in thought. The Wailing Banshee was a good Inn; no threat from thieves, they were far too scared to enter Umbra. The rumors were the punishment for stealing was a slow death followed by an eternal life reborn as a skeleton warrior for the order.

He was reflecting on the past. Not just the past month; not just the sash and the letter. His entire life. He was about 150... Which is about 20 or so in 'human years'. As he sat reflecting, he once again removed the blue sash and looked at it. It was of a thick fabric, made to look like just an ornately crafted sash, but it in fact was quite indestructable, and had many hidden pockets in it, sealed by magics.

He flipped it over, viewing the pockets on the inside. He lazily reached out and ran his finger across the opening to a sealed pouch, the magics in his fingers unsealing it. the letter from his sister fell out onto his chest.

He set the sash aside, reading the white lettering on the black letter one more time.

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Marek-

Usstan orn tlu xuil dos ulnin. Sosaria orn tlu l'ust tresk'ri udos plynn. Orior whol dosst d'anthe dalninil. Mzild orn flohlu ulnin p'luin.

Nathrae

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He sighed as he read it. She will be with me soon? he thought. I knew the magical gate expirament was meant to find a suitable world for us, but... Sosaria?

He sat up, and sat on the edge of the bed, dropping the letter to his lap. Sosaria... A land without its king, its only official governing body, the regency, in disarray... No army was strong enough to stand up to the might of the drow here, he thought. Even if they finally set aside their differences, they would already be too weak to fend us off. If they met to discuss things, our assassins would obliterate the meeting.

He stood and paced about his room. 'Prepare for your dear sister', the letter says, Marek thought. I've spent every waking moment since I recieved this letter preparing for her arrival. I even secured the old meeting room of the Shadowform Empire in Exoniur. Kuja was of course, the one that took me in when I first arrived. Kuja could learn much from us, and so, he took me in.

Marek, feeling he did not have enough space to pace, left his room. He put his sash back on, the letter in his hand, and walked out to the balcony next to his room.

It was night time in Umbra. He looked out and saw black nothingness covering the town. 'More will follow soon after'... I suppose the armies and assassins will come after her, Marek thought. His sister had always treated him better than most drow women treat their brothers. I wonder how I will be treated now, Marek thought. I did nothing special... I was simply thrown into this world randomly, and I've been learning since. I did not even make contact with home - there was no way I could find to do so. Will I be punished? Rewarded? Being left alive will be reward enough, I suppose.

Marek frowned a bit, watching a skeleton chase a beggar out of the bank. Have they been watching me? he wondered. The only things I have from home are... This sash, and this letter. He felt the sash, once again feeling the underlying magics in it, wondering if that was how they knew so much about Sosaria.

He unfolded the letter, looking at it again. Not even reading it; just staring at his sister's handwriting. He stared at her signature. Just how will this happen? he wondered.

Just then, the ink that had written her name began to glow red, then yellow, and then the corner of the letter burst into flame. He dropped it in suprise, as it felt towards the ground, burning into nothing before it ever reached the dirt.

Is this it!? Marek thought. He rushed to his room, gathered his pack and his weapon, his heart racing. He fumbled briefly with his pack, grabbing a rune from it. "Kal Ort Por!"

He was now outside the entrance to the cave he had arrived in. He could hear a gentle whisper of a sound coming from inside, and a strong wind flowing from it. A wind that smelt of death. Home.

He rushed in, his blood on fire with adrenaline. He ran into the main chamber. Before him stood his sister, Nathrae Marlou, in front of a closing moongate.

He dropped to his knees, bowing before her. He tries desperately to catch his breath, not wanting to look out of shape or weak. He succeeded in calming his lungs after a few seconds.

She chuckled a bit. "Rise..." she said.

He rose and looked at her, eye to eye, for the first time in over a year. "I thought..." he started, but was silenced by her smirk.

"It took us so much time, but we found Sosaria. There are already some of us here... So we sent you that sash. That sash... hears... We learned of the weakness of the creatures here... And even learned their common tongue. You've done well, Marek."

Her compliment and kind mood faded, as did her smirk. "You have prepared?" she asked.

"Of course, sister," Marek said, bowing his head. He made a wide gesture with his left hand. "Vas Rel Por!" he said, as the red gate opened, blowing the cold winds of caina through it.

"I have secured us a tower to begin planning." he said, bowing low as she walked past into the gate. After she went through, he stared at the red gate, wondering how the rest of the day would go, before walking through it.
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