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[Thrax]

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The dark elf sensed danger. Years of facing, and surviving, it in the Underdark, had not diminished with time living on the surface of Sosaria. His life had always been one of remaining one step ahead of his foes.

This time, though, he knew they had the jump on him.

"Did you really think you could evade us forever, T'Ar?" the challenge came from the shadows. He recognized the raspy voice of a deadly enemy, Ivan Blackhands.

Dharzhal, who had arrived at his home by recall spell, sat atop his ethereal dragon mount, only a few steps from the door of the Yath Quarval-Sharess, the temple of Lloth, that he shared with his mate, Streea. He gauged his chances of reaching that door alive, and he determined, rightly, that they were not good. From several directions, including in front of him, his enemies gathered like a pack of hounds: Skurj, Edge, and the one he feared most... Marcus Tyrannus. Their weapons drawn, they surrounded him.

He calmly dispelled his mount, to stand, hands folded in front of him, unflinching. "Vendui, brave warriors. So, you have me at last," he remarked, glancing upward to the windows on the second floor, hoping that Streea would appear, witness events, and escape. He was to be disappointed. "Does it take so many to apprehend a simple mage, such as I?"

Ivan laughed. "Simple, perhaps, but we take no chances. You will not escape us this time! One wrong step... one gesture or, should I see you even mumble, our blades will cut you down. Is that understood, drow?" Ivan's dagger flashed in the dim light of the waning moon of Felucca.

Dharzhal nodded. "I surrender to you. Take me, and let's finish this," he suggested.

"Not so fast," Marcus interrupted. "We were told to get you *and* Streea. We believe she is inside. Lead us inside so we can search for her."

It was the dark elf's turn to laugh, a low and brief chuckle. "One step through that door and you will all find yourselves wishing you had never done so. You do worship Oggaroth, do you not?"

"You know we do, fool! What's your point?" Ivan sneered.

"Then you may recall what enemies my goddess, Lloth, and your master, Oggaroth, are? Streea made sure no devotees of your god would survive entry into our temple. She placed powerful wards about it that will bring down Lloth's wrath upon you all. So," he said, calmly extending his right arm as an invitation to enter, "let us by all means go in," he explained. It was, of course, a lie.

"He's lying," Edge stated what they all felt.

Dharzhal said nothing, waiting their next move. He took their hesitation as a good sign.

"Call her to come out then," Ivan hissed. "We will get that drow witch one way or the other!"

"As you wish," Dharzhal replied. Then, speaking in his native tongue, he cried a warning to her, using her name, though he made it sound as little like a warning as possible.

Ivan, angry, hurried to where he stood, pointing his poisoned dagger at the drow's throat. "In a language we ALL can understand! Am I clear?" he growled.

The dark elf eased his neck back to relieve pressure on it from the dagger's razor-sharp point. "She does not speak common so well and we never use it when it is just the two of us. If I use it now, she will be sure to suspect something is amiss. Do you want that? I was merely being prudent," he explained.

Ivan lowered his dagger, but only a little. He nodded. "Call her again," he ordered.

Dharzhal called her several times, issuing the exact same warning to her. "Lost am I. Foes. Soul-mate take flight. Yourself save. See again will. Love dies not."

When she failed to appear, Dharzhal's hopes soared, even as his own fortunes appeared as bleak as they had ever been. He knew she was inside, and had, by now, recalled to safety. He turned to Ivan. "She is not there, or she has been alerted to your presence in some way and remains hidden. This is no use. You have me... is that not enough for now?"

Ivan blinked and looked up at the windows. Dim light flowed through them, but he saw no movement, no sign of life at all. He grunted in frustration. "For now," he conceded.

They quickly bound the drow's hands and gagged him. A magic gate was opened to Thraxstadt and thence they went together.