The Tale of Jhaelant

What follows is the information Jhaelant used to bargain for his life…

It was the evening they banished Zirithian that I felt the event. I doubt anyone else could have felt the same emanations as I did, but while the rest of the mewling drow had gathered to hear Urlvrain’s decree of Zirithian’s banishment, I remained home at my studies.

Very suddenly, a dark presence was felt by me. It winked into existence suddenly and streaked across the cavern sky like I imagine a falling star would on the surface world. It was strange… otherworldly almost, but gave of the aura of dark necromantic power. I could feel it falling into Phaervorul, and using my highly attuned mind, I maintained as much contact as I could with the eldritch item as it tumbled into the chasm that surrounds Phaervorul. It lay there… pulsing with energy like a heartbeat, and calling out in whispered mutterings I could not discern.

The streets were crowded with my hated brethren, and I had no desire to mingle with them, so I decided that the next morning, I would find my way down the chasm and find this relic that so intrigued me. That next morn, I departed, with all manner of arcane tools I could use, but as I approached the bridge that leads into Phaervorul, I paused.

Zirithian was there, walking slowly from the settlement. I lingered in the shadows, thinking I could wait for him to be gone before continuing, not wanting anything to disturb me. He stopped halfway across the bridge and stared down into the chasm. For a moment I feared perhaps he felt the same call I felt from this thing as well…

Neither of us noticed Maarth until he was upon the bridge, right up next to the unaware Zirithian. I tell you, it’s unnatural how that vile killer can seemingly disappear. But Maarth moved so rapidly and silently, and Zirithian never knew the assassin was there. Zirithian, the poor fool, turned to look one last time upon Phaervorul, but instead he found himself staring into the eyes of Maarth. Perhaps he was going to say something, for his mouth opened, but nothing came out as Maarth plunged his daggers deep into Zirithian’s chest.

Without a word, the assassin turned the rapidly weakening body of Zirithian and held it over the chasm. Silently, and with indifference, he slit Zirithian’s throat, and cast the body into the chasm. I barely registered the sound of the impact. I remained hidden where I was, for I knew that if Maarth knew I had witnessed this murder, he’d have undoubtedly killed me as well… or at least tried. I had no desire to face Urlvrain’s black panther.

I had no choice but to retreat and return later when Maarth was gone. But when I returned… the call was gone. I felt no presence… no aura… no emanations.

Whatever had been in the chasm was now gone.

I’d missed my chance, it seems. So I returned to my studies, instead. Perhaps one day, I will feel its presence again…

Author: Turnerbuds

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