Jodiah Ayreg was cleaning house.
Not really, of course. There was never much he had to move around -- he lived a spartan life, after all -- but he was going through his assembled trinkets and gathered items. Years of his old stuff had been reclaimed when he made a brief trip back to the ruins of Doomhammer Keep. Strange things had started to happen in the southlands. Rumors of armies and the conquering of border towns. He had steered clear of these towns, though, whenever he had heard one of them called by name (he, after all, had no intention of getting into any local disputes, and so long as the fighting didn't come close to Rhy'Din City, he had no cause to care), but he was noticing the surrounding countryside, and that it had the look of being stripped bare to bones. He knew the look well. It's the look armies left in their wake.
He shook the thought from his mind, though, as he remembered the trip. For now, he was holding a weapon his hand. A dagger it was called, though it was nearly the length of a small short sword. The blade itself was cast in waves, and acid-etched with a strange script. He knew the script well, though.
It was Drow.
Memories flooded back to him, of his time spent in the Underdark. It was a purely business call, at first, and he had no patience for the dark elves most of the time. They certainly looked at him as if he was a rabid dog loose in their streets. He had a delivery and a message to deliver to a Spider Priestess, and he was going to make sure she got it. Unfortunatly, he didn't count on her trying to kill him after it was done.
Women. Heh.
He pushed the rest of the memories away. What happened wasn't important. Vaiedhra found him, and kept him. They talked. She kept him still, and hid him away from the Spider Priestesses and the armsmen. Vaiedhra was a noblewoman, as it turned out, of a minor House. She had no female heirs, so the matriarchal Drow society would have likely squashed the House itself had she not been shrew, and powerful in her own right. She was without resources, but her own personal influence was... quite impressive.
The two became close. She had taught him more than the language of the Drow, and.. he shook his head, pushing that memory down, as well. The past was past -- it was almost a generation ago, now. In the end, he left the Underdark as he had to have done, and the Spider Priestesses exiled Vaiedhra to the surface for her actions. Hopefully, she still lived in that little cottage he met her at, from time to time, back in those days.
Sliding the wavy-bladed Drow dagger into his coat, Jodiah pulled his as-yet unnamed Shadow mare out of the stables of the Red Dragon, and rode north.
Not really, of course. There was never much he had to move around -- he lived a spartan life, after all -- but he was going through his assembled trinkets and gathered items. Years of his old stuff had been reclaimed when he made a brief trip back to the ruins of Doomhammer Keep. Strange things had started to happen in the southlands. Rumors of armies and the conquering of border towns. He had steered clear of these towns, though, whenever he had heard one of them called by name (he, after all, had no intention of getting into any local disputes, and so long as the fighting didn't come close to Rhy'Din City, he had no cause to care), but he was noticing the surrounding countryside, and that it had the look of being stripped bare to bones. He knew the look well. It's the look armies left in their wake.
He shook the thought from his mind, though, as he remembered the trip. For now, he was holding a weapon his hand. A dagger it was called, though it was nearly the length of a small short sword. The blade itself was cast in waves, and acid-etched with a strange script. He knew the script well, though.
It was Drow.
Memories flooded back to him, of his time spent in the Underdark. It was a purely business call, at first, and he had no patience for the dark elves most of the time. They certainly looked at him as if he was a rabid dog loose in their streets. He had a delivery and a message to deliver to a Spider Priestess, and he was going to make sure she got it. Unfortunatly, he didn't count on her trying to kill him after it was done.
Women. Heh.
He pushed the rest of the memories away. What happened wasn't important. Vaiedhra found him, and kept him. They talked. She kept him still, and hid him away from the Spider Priestesses and the armsmen. Vaiedhra was a noblewoman, as it turned out, of a minor House. She had no female heirs, so the matriarchal Drow society would have likely squashed the House itself had she not been shrew, and powerful in her own right. She was without resources, but her own personal influence was... quite impressive.
The two became close. She had taught him more than the language of the Drow, and.. he shook his head, pushing that memory down, as well. The past was past -- it was almost a generation ago, now. In the end, he left the Underdark as he had to have done, and the Spider Priestesses exiled Vaiedhra to the surface for her actions. Hopefully, she still lived in that little cottage he met her at, from time to time, back in those days.
Sliding the wavy-bladed Drow dagger into his coat, Jodiah pulled his as-yet unnamed Shadow mare out of the stables of the Red Dragon, and rode north.