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[Dryzzid]

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“Wh…what time is it…” Tyranthraxus asked himself in his mind. He lifted his head up off of the floor where he laid and looked to his throne, which sat a mere three feet away. Puzzled he closed his eyes and winced. It felt as if his eyeballs were popping out of his skull. He managed to crawl to his feet and dust himself off. “Why… do I still have my boots on?” he asked again in his head, as if he himself would have an answer. The pain in his head was unbearable, and he wondered if it would ever go away. He stumbled over to his throne and plopped down in it, burying his head in his hands.

“What happened..?” he asked aloud this time, trying to shake away the headache, but it was no use. Rolling his neck he noticed that his stone throne felt unusually comfortable that morning. Reaching up to massage his neck muscles he smiled as bits and pieces of the previous night finally came back to him.

“C…Cear? No.. Cierra…? No…” He pondered as he rubbed his neck with one hand and stretched the other into the air. “Ceinwyn! That’s it!” he shouted aloud. He looked around his chambers cautiously to make sure no one was observing. Once the paranoia passed, he smiled as he remembered the touch of the drow fondly. Her pale skin, the feel of her fingers, her gentle bite. He relaxed a bit in the throne as it all came back to hi…

“Wait”, he said aloud. The necromancer twisted back and forth, stretching his back muscles out; they were as loose as could be. His eyes widened a bit and he once again scanned his chambers. “… Drayek…?” he thought to himself. He blinked in disbelief and then slunk low in the throne, resting his elbows on his knees. What had he done? He couldn’t remember.

Tyranthraxus winced as he noticed a sharp pain in his right elbow. Pulling the sleeve of his tunic back, he examined a large bruise closely. “What in Oblivion’s na… the Hunter’s Lodge!” he thought to himself, rubbing his elbow. Quite unsure of what to do, he sat in silent contemplation for a few moments, his head still pounding. Attempting to shake it off, he walked over to gaze into the Mirror of Morgaz, as he had done every morning since he reacquired it from the Order.

Staring into the mirror, the necromancer was in shock. He could not believe what his eyes saw. Reaching up to his hair, he unfastened the pink bow that was tied into his hair. He stared into the mirror still, his mouth wide open, still stricken with disbelief. Running his fingers through his hair, he felt several braids wound into his longer, silvery mane.

Just then, he felt an urge run through his body; one he could not ignore. Sprinting through the secret door and exiting out the side of Charnel Hill, he ran to the edge of the cemetery walls, where it was a good thirty feet to the ground. He looked over his right shoulder, and then his left. “No one is awake, no one will see”, he thought to himself.

He leaned his head back and stared at the sky. Night and come and gone; it was late morning now; the sun had almost reached its pinnacle. He let out a groan of relief and satisfaction and closed his eyes, smiling as more memories of the previous night filled his head.

So many uncertainties, he thought. There was one thing that Tyranthraxus was sure of, though.

He would never drink that much again.
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Dryzzid#5091 | 74503058

[Ceinwyn ab'Arawn]

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With plans set in stone lodged within her mind, Ceinwyn ab'Arawn decided that she would have a bit of fun before beginning the "task" set before her. With this inclination, she found herself at the door of the Lodge, ready to relax.

Upon arrival, she saw noone downstairs, but heard voices upstairs. She headed up the steps to the second floor bar area, where the voices were coming from. Lord Tyranthraxus at the bar. Interesting. She headed to the bar, and Maggy took her order. It had been some time since she had partaken of roast pheasant, so that's what she ordered.

Tyranthraxus commented on her menu selection. She stated vaguely that Life was for enjoyment. He nodded in agreement as Maggy brought her dinner. The woman set down bread and water, as if Ceinwyn would even touch the two. When finally she set the roast in front of her, Ceinwyn ordered wine to go with it. Nothing short of white wine would be best with pheasant. Uncultured of her to even suggest water. Maybe she does not know, pondered Ceinwyn.

A few drinks into the wine and Ceinwyn was feeling relaxed. It had been some time since she had had a drink, and in truth, she would not have to drink much. She was already in the mindset to have a bit of fun.

Overhearing things being spoken by Sethos and Tyranthraxus, she smirked. Imagine that, airing dirty laundry in public.

This discussion will surely be their downfall if they keep at it. Is not this how the light bringers snap at each other? These two are better than that, surely.

She looked around, anxiously. How long had the elves been sitting there, anyway? Listening.. Godsteeth! She muttered to herself, under her breath. They must not make this image of themselves.

Standing, she found herself behind Lord Tyranthraxus. She began to whisper things in his ear. Telling him things he must already know, things about him having options. Things noone else needed to know. She grazed her teeth over his neck, lightly, to demonstrate a point.

This is how you do it, she thought. Not out loud for the world to hear.

Convinced she had set an example and maybe taught a good lesson, she began to smooth the tension out of Lord Tyranthraxus' shoulders. So tense he was..

THIS is why I do not want leadership. I am free to do what I want. Do not have to care or worry or make decisions for underlings. I can research my own means to an end without disturbance.

As she did this, the unknown elf began to ask questions about drow. How the hell should she know? She had never consigned to be some pathetic worshipper of an underground goddess named Lloth or whatever deity they claimed, currently.

As the night went on, she found herself sitting beside Tyranthraxus, well into her cups. She weaved an intricate braid into his hair on one side. It was crafted of 3 tinier complicated braids. She had even gone the extra mile and interwoven bits of bone and magic charms into it. When done, she had chanted over it a bit.

She studied her handiwork. Excellent. Even she could tell that, drunk as she was. But soon, the drink would wear off. It often did quickly.

When Tyranthraxus, at last, stood to leave, he wobbled a bit. Every member of the Order had rushed to assist. He had shrugged them off, not needing it. He recalled back to Umbra.

Ahh well, she grinned, at least it wasn't a boring night.