Vilrath woke with his customary grunt, sitting up the moment his eyes opened. As he started to pull back the covers and turn to get out of bed, he noticed something. His alarm wasn?t going off. Silver eyes narrowed on the small, black alarm clock dangerously, noting the time. Five AM. Cursing under his breath, Vilrath tossed a glance around the room, eyes sweeping over the shadows suspiciously.

Crash!

He leapt up, rolling out of the bed while his hand shot out, grabbing the slender dagger that rested on his nightstand. As he came from the roll, he moved into a defensive crouch, his eyes darting left and right. Another crash sounded, and he realized where it was coming from. Then another?and another, and another. The dagger was put away with a snap and dropped back onto the nightstand as he walked back toward his bed and dove face first into the pillows. He would kill his neighbor one day, and burn their drum set to ashes.

He lay there for half an hour, willing himself to go sleep despite the loud bangs and crashes that some people mistook for music. When it became apparent that he wouldn?t be getting to sleep anytime soon, Vilrath rolled back out of bed and quickly dressed himself. The lemon-yellow kitten sprang off the dresser and latched onto his arm. It clung to him, little claws tearing through his shirt. Before it could cut into his skin past the bracer he wore, purple flames lit up on its small, furry body. Then it freaked. The kitten dropped and ran around in terrified circles, unaware of the fact that the faerie fire did no damage and caused no pain. While he did this, Vilrath climbed out the window and slowly scaled the building.

He stopped outside his drum-playing neighbor?s window; peering darkly at the brightly lit room with the young, would be rock star. Idly, he wondered how anyone could take that incessant banging as music. Then pushing that thought aside, his attention zeroed in on the drummer. Vilrath summoned up one of his innate abilities, sending a globe of absolute darkness into the room to completely block out all light. The young man playing the drums jumped and yelped as everything went completely black, stumbling back with a loud crash as he fell off his stool and knocked something over behind him.

Vilrath silently opened the window while the man lay there and cursed vehemently. The drow could hear the bumbling man push up to his feet and stumble around the pitch-black apartment, knocking over various items in his pursuit for the light-switch. While his neighbor did that, Vilrath crept silently toward the drum set, drawing that dagger again to begin slicing through the membranes covering the various drums. Within a few moments, the kit was rendered useless; he even broke the bass pedal.

Turning as he heard a disgruntled response from his neighbor as the light switch flicked again and again, but no light filled the room, Vilrath smirked; deciding now was the best time to exit. Just as silently as before, the drow stalked toward the window, slipping out to soundlessly ease it shut. Then he climbed back down, swung into his apartment, and closed the window behind him. A self-satisfied smirk had grown wide along the drow?s lips as he turned for the bed, throwing himself back on it with a sigh of relief. It didn?t take long for the sandman to call and take him away for a few more hours of rest.