House of Black Hearts Mature Content. Extreme Mature Content

[Haseo]

Why.

It was a question hated and damned within my life. Any questions I asked always seemed to be answered with a beating. But I still could not stop myself from asking. Why do we live like this? My questions, however, while distressing to those around me, made sense to me and my father. He tells me this often. My greatest question... Why do we suffocate ourselves to the Underdark? Why do we hate the surface elves so much and kill them whenever we are presented with a chance... But we never stay on the surface? I understand that everyone says that they want no part of the burning inferno... But were we not once a part of the world above? Were we not the ones who were driven to the darkness?

Then why do we stay if we have constantly been presented with, chance after chance, to reclaim what should be rightfully ours? I have been told tales of the traitor Drizzt Do'Urden, of House Do'Urden. I have been told more carefully than any other within my House, and I believe, in the city. I suppose that everyone around me fears I will be like this Drizzt. Why would I want such a thing? I am happy with my life of fighting. I accept the Spider Queen, as much as I can, into my heart. They fear I will one day cast off the, as the Do'Urden had once called them, shackles of our people and journey to the surface to live peacefully with all others. They are foolish to think such things of me. The dwarves and the humans and the faeries as friends? Blasphemous. I would, however, like one day to meet with this Drizzt Do'Urden and test myself against his legendary scimitars. To see if I could ever measure up to the path he has carved for himself. The legacy he has forever burned into the minds of my people. I want my own legacy. Even if I am a lowly secondboy.

I care little for my station as Secondboy of my House, but neither do I aspire to kill my brother and become Elderboy. While I do wish to rise... it is not within my House that I wish it. I want to see the surface world as the surface elves do; Every day and every night. And call it my own. And for these thoughts and these questions, I am beat mercilessly. Every day. No longer do I even have to ask them aloud. My eldest sister and my mother have taken to constantly reading my thoughts. I think the only thing saving me is my father and brother. Together, we three are nearly unstoppable, my father's and I swords, with my brother's spells. Many a House has fallen before us. I have killed my fellow drow. But I always do so with disgust. It is not the drow I want to kill, not my fellow dark skinned elves. I want the faeries... and I want their world. I want what should be ours. And for this I am damned.
-Zaknaun Rilyn'Dar

[Haseo]

Chapter 1

The Underdark is a deep and silent place. But it is not desolate. One to make such an assumption would be a fool, and would likely find themselves surrounded by the most deadly of all creatures in the dark places of the world; The Drow. There are several drow cities, but our story takes place within Menzoberranzan, not the largest of drow cities, but still one of the most deadly. Two miles wide and a thousand feet high. The drow have left no stone untouched, and have turned what was once a bare cavern of stone into a work of art; row after row of stone, stalagmite castle sits, outlined by magical faerie fire. The drow are shorter than their elven kin on the surface world, but all the more deadly, the drow are a wicked people, their hearts as black as their skin. There are a few exceptions to this rule, on both sides of the spectrum; There are some who's hearts are a far greater shine than their skin could ever hope to be, while the opposite is true for some of the palest skinned of drow. White skin amongst the drow is very rare, but the Matron Mother of House Rilyn'Dar, Eleventh House of Menzoberranzan, is one of these pale, deadly beauties. Her heart blacker than coal, but her skin paler than fresh fallen snow. Even her children possessed skin that was not nearly as ebon as the rest of the races, more of a deep, ashy gray. Matron Jyszyne was known for her quick reactions of cruelty to those who defied her, never letting even the smallest slight escape punishment. Her cruelty was currently on display to her greatest headache and anomaly; Her youngest son, Zaknaun. He had displeased her with his questions of why;

Why must we hate the faeries and not take their world as our own?

Why must we kill each other when we do not aspire to kill the faeries?

Why, why, why.

The questions left burns within each of the family members gathered. Most of anger, some of confusion, while one agreed whole-heartedly. He kept silent all through it, not saying a word. The Weapon Master of House Rilyn'Dar was always silent, never saying a word. He was young yet, not even half over with his life, and the shows of violence the Matron Mother showed to their son always cut deeply into him. He had warned him not to ask such things of their Matron, that it was not their place as males. But his son had an unquenchable spirit. With every lash of the snake-headed whips of Matron Jyszyne, Belal clenched his hands tighter and tighter. After a few moments, the Matron Mother huffed and puffed, hissing between clenched teeth, "Do you have anymore questions?"

And then he looked up, a bruised and bloody mess. Zaknaun Rilyn'Dar, face defiant as ever and red eyes burning with a dark conviction, barely able to breath out, "Y...Yes... Matron... Mother..." Jyszyne shrieked in rage at Belal, "Take that boy from my sight before I offer him to Blessed Lolth!" Zak coughed several times into his hands, feeling warm blood staining his hands and lips as he looked to all the others in the antechamber in the heat spectrum. Zak could see his father and brother's faces were more softly heated than the others, and their's was mostly out of concern for the young Rilyn'Dar. Zak felt his father's hands gently lift him from his position on his hands and knees before his mother, only to be stopped as Jyszyne gripped Zak's face tightly in one hand, leaning forward to whisper coldly, "Why do you ask why?" Zaknaun was hesitant to answer. He could almost tell that he would be beaten further if he answered incorrectly, but... he could not stop himself.

"Because the surface... is by right... ours." That stopped all of the family's breath. Thus far, the young Zak had not been permitted to explain himself. He had only been beaten mercilessly. He felt his mother's hand tighten further on his face, and, finally able to open his nearly closed eyes, he saw the confusion etched there on her face. "Why do you want the surface world so badly? What could possibly appeal you so to it?" Zak swallowed, and it was a hard thing to do, uttering before he lost conciousness, "The faeries have it, and they... deserve... nothing..."

A few hours passed before Zak awoke in his rather humble chamber, his body numb with the barest traces of sharp pains lining it. The snake whips of High Priestesses were deadly things, their magic able to tear through a person so easily. His eyes widened quickly and the boy looked around as fast as his throbbing head could take, before his eyes rested on what he had been so concerned for; his sword belt. His twin swords still sat in their respective sheaths, the bejewelled belt pleasing to his eyes in the soft, bare candlight. His eyes had always been able to handle more light than any of his kin, though he wasn't ashamed to admit the burning orb of the surface world still burned his eyes terribly. He was not so much younger than his brother, only by a few short decades, and the two and their father shared something that many of the drow world could never even grasp; a bond. The mere fact that the three males shared even the smallest of connections had at first infuriated Matron Jyszyne, but, after seeing how well their bond worked in her favor when she set the three loose on enemy Houses as assassins more than pleased her. Especially considering they did not possess any rebellious qualities. Their hearts were completely devoted to the art of Chaos.

Zak frowned at that thought. Devoted to chaos... He supposed that he was no longer so. He had grown into something more. Wanted shape in the chaotic world of the drow. Wanted a true focus for their hatred. Their malice that could be so much better served by murdering the faeries and taking their lands. Zak sighed at all the confusing thoughts pounding in his head now, and looked out of a window of his House. It was probably not a wise choice, considering that at any moment, one of the lesser Houses could pounce on House Rilyn'Dar. He did not know if his actions would put his House out of favor with the Goddess, but he knew that for them to remain within this dark cavern and crawl along the tunnels surrounding it like worms was wrong in his mind. And ever it would remain. Zaknaun slowly stood, stiffly, and scooped up his sword belt, fastening it tightly and leaving his chambers as briskly as his feet would carry him. Pulling his enchanted piwafwi, his enchanted cloak, on and sliding his serrated dagger back into his boot, Zak made his way through his House. Despite being a relatively lowly in ranking and station, House Rilyn'Dar was a lavishly decorated and ornate compound, consisting of six, hallowed out stalagmites outlined in faerie fire to allow all to see its many- stolen- gargoyles and statues, as well as the large adamantite gates crafted to appear like a spider-web, great spider statues sitting on either side of them. And Zak's chamber had a balcony and was located at the top of one of the stalagmites, offering him a perfect view of the gates, and the guards walking the perimeter. Sighing as he leaned against the railing of his large balcony, Zak closed his eyes to the darkness of the world around him.

He had no idea what had happened after he'd lost his conciousness, but it couldn't be too bad. He was still breathing after all. Opening his eyes again, Zak looked down with despair at the dark world around him. He despised it beyond all reason, this darkness he seemed forever damned to, while the faeries had a world, high above them, so mighty and proud. He had journeyed to the surface on a raid, and he could still remember the sounds and smells that had so fully surrounded and embraced him. Of course, afterwards, much of the smells and sounds had disappeared. The only thing he could smell after that was blood and a few torched bodies, and all night sounds had disappeared to a quiet minimum. He would not say that it was silent. Never would he say that, for he had lived in the Underdark for all of his life, so he knew what true silence was. Zak sighed and ran his fingers through his long white hair, before looking back down to the ground. His eyes traced along the patrols that walked slowly along the gates, gingerly tracing his fingers along his fresh bruises and marks, wincing only minimally. The young dark elf sighed to himself, eyes slowly shifting to infravision and looking out across the world that had been so dark only moments ago, that now exploded into a thousand different hints and shades of colors. His dark piercing vision still did not compare to the nights he had travelled up to the surface on raids, and the thought only served to depress him further, red glowing eyes slowly shifting back to the regular red.

The sound of his door sliding open slowly snapped Zak into attention, the drow warrior instantly turning with blades drawn and eyes burning... but he stopped, as Gaussanna, his just older sister stepped through. Internally, he winced suddenly feeling very trapped. He did not enjoy visits from his sister Gaussanna. The woman was smiling wickedly as she eyed his swords now placed on his bejewelled belt, before looking up to Zak's face, causing his throat to tighten in revulsion. He knew precisely what she wanted from him. She spoke lowly in her soft voice, "It's been some time since I've seen you, little Zaknaun... Have you missed your sister?" Zak watched as the door closed behind her, the smaller woman standing between he and the door, again making the male feel trapped in his current situation. For a moment, he considered leaping out of his balcony window and levitating down to the ground. He didn't know, knowing what would come if he attempted such a thing. He would be captured and beaten severely. Gaussanna frowned slightly, but her eyes never lost their amused glare, "Struck speechless, little brother?" Zak swallowed slowly, and answered while keeping his face and features straight, "No, I don't have a reason to be speechless. There's nothing that's stolen my words from my lips, nor the breath from my lungs." The biting comments were all that he could give to save himself and make himself feel a little better when he thought of the humilation that was soon to come.

Gaussanna's smile came back slowly but her eyes were drained of all amusement as she now stood chest to chest with Zak, her nose touching his. Zaknaun was tall for most male drow, and Gaussanna was short for most drow in general, making the difference that much more noticeable. Backed up against the adamantite railing, Zak realized he truly had no where to go, and that was made painfully clear when she suddenly gripped his belt and jerked him into his room. For a moment, panic actually swept Zak, and he muttered lowly, "Gaussanna, please-" He was silenced as she forced her lips on his and her free hand jerking into his hair, pulling his head down and forcing him to obey her. After a few moments of the kiss- more of Gaussanna forcing her lips on Zak's and her tongue in his mouth as well- the female broke away for air, grinning widely and licking her lips, and making a comment that nearly broke the male then and there, "I haven't had your lips like that since you were a boy." Zak looked away and closed his eyes against the pain of the memories that tried to force themselves into his head then, the moments of being a small child forced to...

He couldn't even finish the thought, let alone the memory before he felt so sick he may have lost conciousness again. Perhaps that would have been a better fate to what he was now sure to endure at the hands of his sister, as she threw him back onto his bed, jerking his sword belt from him as he fell back. The secondboy made a futile snatch for his belt, but stopped short as he was smacked across the face, hands falling limp to his sides, and keeping his face turned the way it had been stricken. His blood ran like ice in his veigns though his heart pounded faster and faster, especially as his sister set her hand on his chest, covered by the fine drow chain-mesh body suit, and slowly slid her hand down, across his tight stomach, to rest gently on his crotch, and Zak blanched at the touch, shuddering visibly. His sister leaned against him, pushing him back with her own body, and whispered vilely in his ear, "I knew you wanted it, little brother. You always have. Ever since the first time I forced your face to my divinity. Did you enjoy it, brother? Did you enjoy it when I forced you to stick your tongue out and lavish me?" Zak closed his eyes against the words, even as her thick scent began to fill the air and his body, damn the digusting thing, betrayed him. His manhood slowly began grow at her ministrations, and the drow whispered hoarsely, "Why do you do this to me?" He didn't expect to recieve an answer, at least not one that he was satisfied with.

He was half right, as his sister whispered the damning, but true, words. "Because you can do nothing to stop me. Because you're too weak." Zaknaun whimpered- a pathetic sound that disgusted the drow warrior and delighted his foul sister- as she pressed forefully hard against his constrained hardness. He felt her hand leave his swollen muscle, and work his chainmail off next along with his pwafwi, and he now lay stark naked and bare before her. The dominating woman stepped back, taking a handful of his hair as she did so and dragging him up along with her, and demanded, "I want you to tell me how much you want this, little brother. I want you to tell me how badly you want to be inside of me." Zak knew this game. He'd played it hundreds of times, the first when he was no more than the tender age of six, and the last right before he'd been sent to Tier Brache. He held out, as he always did, and did not give her the satisfaction of hearing him say the words that the male did not know whether rung false or true.

[Haseo]

And as always, she coaxed the words out of him as she reached down and took him tightly between her fingers, twisting and hissing, "Tell me!" Zak, for his part, did well in holding out the next few moments, before she began twisting more and he cried out, "I want to be inside of you sister!" The drow felt himself suddenly thrown back, and instantly felt her naked flesh against his, her body rubbing against his and pressing his swollen member against his flat stomach, as his sister squirmed on-top of him, taking his lower lip between her teeth and pulling savagely, letting go and giving a sinister chuckle at the light 'slap' sound as his lip flew back against his teeth, marks already forming where she'd bitten, a little dabble of blood finding its way to his chin. "You're so disgusting, Zaknaun... Profressing your twisted desires for your sister. Filthy male, you don't care that we're of the same blood! All you care for is the pleasures of your own flesh." Zak closed his eyes against the barrage of taunts, only opening them again, and just barely, as he felt her slowly set his tip against her lips. The male tried reasoning one last time, "Gaussanna... Please, don't." Zak felt the cool tip of a dagger gently trace down his chest, cutting only shallowly and turned to look at his rapist. She wasn't smiling as she normally did during these encounters, and neither did her eyes sparkle with amusement anymore. Her amber eyes locked cooly with Zak's scarlet, even as she slowly lowered herself further onto him, her slickness making the entry smooth and without pause. Both of the drows' eyelids fluttered, but neither broke the silent stare down, even as Gaussanna began to grind herself against Zak's hips, both of them making silent and suppressed groans at the forbidden pleasure that was being stolen.

The dagger was tossed to the side, and Gaussanna forcefully gripped his wrists with her hands, and his mind with her powers, breaking down his defenses against her ministrations and rocking hips, actually causing the male to cry out in both pleasure and suffering as his hands were forced onto her breasts, though forced may not have been the right word; His mind was fully in her control now, and his fingers massaged and kneaded her breasts roughly. The High Priestess grunted at her warrior brother's grip, and rocked her hips harder, beginning to lift and lower her self as well, causing both of their loins to heat and the wetness now sliding on both of their pelvises to grow almost sickeningly. Gaussanna leaned forward, shoving her lips against his as her moans began to grow louder and louder, and Zak readily gave in to her now that he was her mind-slave. Their rocking and thrusting motions soon grew out of control, and they began to scream into each other's mouths as their climaxes drew near, both stiffening and shuddering as they spent themselves on one another. Gaussanna's fingers tightened, nails digging painfully into Zak's chest as her walls tightened and convulsed around the male's spasming member as it spewed its warm cum inside of her. Gaussanna's grip on Zak's mind slowly ebbed, and the secondboy jolted in horror as she had raped him again. The woman lowered herself onto the drow warrior, purring low in her throat and whispering, "Brother... you are so filthy... You filled me up again." Zak wanted to throw her off of him and stab her in the stomach, to twist the blade as he did so and draw so many screams out of her whore mouth.

But, as ever, the male kept himself under some sort of control, slowly lowering his hands to the bed as his breath returned to normal, sweat plastering his stark white hair to his forehead and simply lay on the bed, soaked with the sweat of he and his sister, and their filthy deed beginning to leak down his jewels and form a small pool there on the bed. His sister yawned as she burrowed herself onto her brother, soft flesh against his hardened body, asking with a falsely innocent tone, "You enjoyed it didn't you, brother?" Zak was emotionless, and his very heart felt drained as he muttered, "No." There was no reason to lie to her, she could read his thoughts anyways. The High Priestess lifted her head and smiled viciously at him, "Then maybe I shouldn't let you stop..."

-----

It had been a few days since his encounter with Gaussanna, and the secondboy of Rilyn'Dar was still emotionally raw from his raping, as he always was afterwards, but now he was physically sore as well. His sister had left bruises on his hips from her forceful rape, and the drow didn't know if he'd be able to preform the duties required of him the next few days. Maybe weeks. As Zak limped through the corridors of the Rilyn'Dar compound, the young drow began ducking into a few secret passages. Ones that he had made himself, or rather had some slaves make and then executed them so the knowledge could never be leaked to anyone, and sat down slowly in the small, dark cubby.

He stared at the wall in front of him for several long moments, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. No sound emenated from the secondboy, not even as a few shimmering tears began to roll down his cheeks in the dark that he hid himself away in.

[Haseo]

Chapter 2

Zak stood at attention in the antechamber with the rest of the family, his eyes on the ground and listening carefully to what his mother had to say, standing between Halin and Belal, who were similarly bowing their heads. Matron Jyszyne was livid. Furious in fact. They could see her heated form blazing a violent red in the invravision, the only way to see in the absolute darkness of the antechamber. What frightened all the males of the House though, was the fact that not only was she pacing right in front of them, she was speaking in a completely calm tone as she talked. "Do you know why you were all summoned?", she asked, pacing slowly, her spider emblazoned robes flowing as she moved.

She stopped directly in front of Halin, and asked him, "Do you, elderboy?" Halin took in a shuddering breath and carefully answered in a low and respective tone, "No, Matron Jyszyne." He was backhanded viciously, but kept from making a sound out of fear. Zak's mother than walked in front of him... and straight to Belal, smacking him without asking a word, "Do you, Weapons Master?" Her voice remained completely calm, and Belal answered with no small bit of venom in his voice, "I've no idea, Matron Mother." Jyszyne slowly smiled and pointed at both of the brothers, "This is why you're gathered here. Because you have given me three males in a row, as opposed to the two females your predecessor gave me." Her hand suddenly moved to gesture the smug looking male just a bit off. Zak looked coldly at the man, having never liked his biting remarks and glares. Nadeth, the House Wizard of Rilyn'Dar. He looked to his father, however, and saw him staring defiantly ahead, looking right through Matron Jyszyne. The Matron grinned slowly and asked, "Do you think that you could produce a female for me within a year?" Belal's eyes shifted slowly to Matron Jyszyne, who was standing in front of him and slowly opening her robes. Zak quickly looked away revulsion rising in the back of his throat. How unfortunate, that as he looked away, his eyes fell upon Gaussanna, who was staring at him with a smirk, their eldest sister right beside her and frowning right at Zak.

He knew that she knew, and she disapproved not because they were family, but because the male was so weak that he couldn't defend himself, even against a High Priestess. The drow slowly lowered his eyes, trapped between his sister's horrible stares, and the sounds of his father being forced to service that vile woman right beside him. Zak's hands clenched tightly, the thin leather gloves he wore actually creaking. His gaze moved up through his hair to look at his brother Halin, who seemed to had cast a spell of blindness upon himself. If only Zak was that fortunate as the squeals of his mother and soft grunts of his father began permeating his mind.

***

Zak had rushed from the antechamber after his mother had finished with Belal, feeling like he was going to vomit. He was stopped, however by the most unlikely of figures; Nadeth. The drow wizard caught him about the arm as he was fleeing, and Zak nearly drew his weapon about the fool. He stopped short, however, as he found a wand pointed right at his throat. The drow quietly swalled, gaze shooting back up to the much older drow that began to circle him, the smile and chuckle rolling out of his throat infuriating Zaknaun. "It seems that the father and son share a trait more than their wish to rise to the surface." Zak's face tightened and one of his prestine eyebrows rose in question, voice low and shaking as he demanded, "What do you want of me, Nadeth?"

The wizard moved in close, his wand actually touching Zak's throat now, making the secondboy flinch and tense as Nadeth set his cheek against his. He was silent for several long moments, before he sneered into Zak's ear, "To inform you of how weak you and your father are... to allow yourselves to be dominated... to allow your phalluses to be forced into women you despise. Hadn't you sister just finished with your ten cycles of Narbondel ago?" Hate rolled off of Zak, and before he knew what had happened, the wizard was gasping and leaning heavily against him... a warm, slick feeling slowly starting to cover his hand, while his other clutched the wizard's wand wielding wrist, forcing it away from him. Zak could feel the daggers handle plainly in his hand, and he knew, with horror, that he had just openly committed murder. This was not the way of the drow of Menzoberranzan. There had been no shadows to hide him. There had been no subtlety, nothing. And worse, he had killed an important figure of the House.

"Brother!", came the soft gasp behind him; the soft gasp of a female. Zak slowly turned with a horrified look as Nadeth gave his last shudder, and slid down the secondboy, falling to the ground lifeless, Zak still clutching the offending weapon in his hand as he looked Akorffyn, whose face was slowly growing livid; Zak had just murdered her father. Albiet, she beat him more often than not out of amusement, but this only gave her reason to sacrifice the drow to Lolth. The woman slowly strode up to Zak, who had begun to shake horribly as she reached him. The woman set a heavy glare on Zak, who hadn't moved an inch and was barely breathing, a look that clearly said he would die if he attempted anything, and kneeled next to the body of the former House Wizard. Akorffyn set her hand upon Nadeth's forehead, and instantly looked up to Zak, speaking the words of his damnation.

"He's dead, Zaknaun."

"What a treachorous little bastard..." If Akorffyn was enough to make Zak's blood run cold, Matron Jyszyne's was enough to wish he had been cast to the Demon Web Pits to forever be tormented by Drider and any other Hell-Beasts. He couldn't even look at his mother, who still had her robes opened and out for all to see. But she walked right in front of the shaking secondboy and forced him to look at her, forced him to gaze in her cruel eyes and view her pale flesh surrounding it. The woman asked in a quiet tone, "Do you realize what you've done, my son?" Zak slowly nodded, and Jyszyne laughed loudly, and Zak could see his brother behind her, face openly filled with fear.

"So you knew that Nadeth was a traitor and spy?" All who were in the corridor snapped their eyes to Matron Jyszyne, mouth's opening wide. All but Zak, who's body slowly began to regain some sort of warmth, barely stuttering out, "Wh-... what?" The matron shrugged softly-And how Zak wished she hadn't, for it caused her robe to slide a little more off her shoulder- and answered, "I knew for some time. He worships Vhaerun. I was just waiting to have Belal make an example of him. It seems that you are more useful than he." Belal chose that time to make his appearance, and stood beside Matron Jyszyne, nodding to his son, though his eyes were dulled significantly, though they looked down as Jyszyne said lowly, "And perhaps... my son would be a more useful Weapons Master as well." Zak's eyes shot to his father as Jyszyne turned and walked back to the antechamber, Akorffyn following quickly after her and leaving the still twitching corpse of Nadeth behind.

Zak breathed slowly, his heartbeat returning to normal and looked to his father, who's gaze had been focused on the floor ever since Jyszyne suggested that Zak may replace Belal. Zak quietly started, "Father, I-" He stopped in an instant however, as Belal looked up to him with a coldness that both startled and frightened the secondboy. He had never seen his father look at him with... Zak couldn't even place the feeling he saw in his father's eyes, it was so foreign to everything he had associated him with; Friend, companion, joker. Now, it was as though Zak was staring into the eyes of an ordinary drow. Belal turned from him and strode away, head held high as he walked silently in his drow platemail. Zak moved to reach out to his father, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him instantly. Looking back, he saw that it was Halin who now held him firmly in his place, shaking his head. "Don't. He's just... just sore after being with Mother. You know he always is." Zak stared at his brother for several long seconds, before turning his gaze back to his father's retreating back. He was not as sure of his brother's words.

The two sighed softly, and began to walk off, side by side but silent. Something was missing, they realized, as they did not have their father between them; The Trio of Rilyn'Dar. Now it was only the duo, and it lost much of its meaning for the two bothers, though they did not part for many hours. While Halin had been quick to say that it was just the forced intercourse between himself and their Matron, he too felt that there was something very wrong. But together, they warded it off, even playing one of the many magical games the Halin possessed. It was similar to the rolling dice that humans played, but this was played with small cystals that changed color upon chance. After many losses for Zaknaun, he finally decided to withdraw from the company of his brother, with a much lighter coinpurse. The youngest son of House Rilyn'Dar wandered throughout the compound, his mind always falling back to the image of his father glaring coldly at him. Surely he wasn't angry about what Jyszyne said? There would be no way that Zak could ever replace Belal as Weapons Master of Rilyn'Dar! He wasn't nearly experienced enough, and, while he was very agile and skilled, his father was ten times that in his opinion.

Zak turned the corner, heading for his chamber, but had to stop short and throw himself into a roll as a large sword cut into the wall where his head had been only moments ago. As he came up, swords drawn instantly and turned to face his attacker... the secondboy felt a stone drop into his stomach, and whispered in terror and pain one word.

[Haseo]

"Father!"

It was indeed Belal who had attempted to behead the boy, Belal who now turned to face him a look of intense rage and hate on his face as he hissed, "Do not refer to me as your father, any longer, soon to be former secondboy of House Rilyn'Dar." Zak's breath hitched at that, shaking his head and taking a few paniced steps back as his father slowly advanced on him, his large sword clutched tightly in both hands. "Face me, Zaknaun. Face me and die."

Zak turned and tried to run, but a whip lashed out and caught him tightly around his throat, pulling him back. The drow turned to look over his shoulder at his father, gasping for breath as the larger drow began to pull him back, wrapping the whip around his hand to close the distance between himself and Zak. There was no hesitation in his eyes, none that Zak could see; Belal was going to kill him. Zak shook for a moment as he realized this, eyes widened in fear. Faced with such hate in his father's face though, Zak could no longer hold back his own. The drow elf spun quickly on his heels, wrapping his neck up tightly in the whip yes, but closing the distance to Belal faster than he imagined, swords flashing out to cut the leather whip, before they soared back in towards Belal's chest. The experienced Weapons Master knocked both blades aside with a single stroke of his large sword, then attempted to shoulder tackle Zak into a wall. The agile drow, however, set one of his feet on Belal's incoming knee, walked himself up to his shoulder and jumped off, kicking at the back of Belal's head on his way past. This stumbled Belal for a bare moment, actually sending him crashing into a wall, before he turned a split second later and charged Zak again. Zak set both of his swords up in a cross, catching Belal's swords tightly between his own. The two drew close to the other, growling in each other's faces. Zak, barely able to hold his own against his stronger father, demanded, "Why... Are you... doing this?!" Zak felt his arms beginning to shake, and knew that he would not hold long against his father's crushing strength. He knew this even more clearly as he crashed to one of his knees, the chain-mesh suit he wore assuredly bruising it as a sharp pain raced up Zak's leg.

"Because, Weapons Masters no longer useful are killed! I will not be replaced, I refuse to die!", Belal roared, one of his legs flying out and kicking Zak in the face, the platemail shredding a side of his face painfully, and knocking him against a wall. It was only through his trained senses that he was able to knock the blade soaring for his chest away and thrust out with one of his own. His adamantite sword was caught tightly by his father's strong grip, and Zak's face took on one of surprise as he saw that his father held no fear of the blade cutting his hand, raising his own large sword to end Zak.

Time slowed for both of the drow as Belal's sword came soaring down towards him. The blade was close, so close. Zak shut his eyes and screamed out in terror, his free blade swinging out in desperation. His scream was answered with one of Belal's own, and a loud sound of metal on stone rung out right beside Zak's ear as his captive blade felt suddenly free and his arm dropped to the ground, pain erupting from his shoulder as a blade bit into it sharply. Slowly looking to his right, Zak's eyes widened as he saw his father's blade sticking out from the wall, his reflection plainly visible in it. He could see his sweat plastered hair sticking to his forehead, his shaking eyes showing a look of panic, pupils dialated. Beads of sweat rolling down his face and dripping off of his nose. Looking up the blade to the hilt, he saw his father's hand still clutching it tightly... But the hand was no longer connected with his father. Groaning as he slid down, removing the edge of the blade from his shoulder as he did so, Zak looked slowly at his father who was leaned against a wall and hissing with pain, clutching the stump that had once been his hand.

Zak rolled and pushed himself up with the tip of his left sword, no longer able to move his right arm, and turned to face his father. No, to face Belal Rilyn'Dar. His enemy.

The two looked at each other with more hate than they had ever looked at any other drow with, any other surface elf. And they stood facing each other in a silent battle of wills as Belal reached down to his belt and produced a dagger. Even with such a short weapon, Zak knew that Belal was still very dangerous, and could likely kill him if given the chance with ease, especially now that Zak could only use one of his blades. For several long moments, neither moved, but they could hear the sounds of rushing feet approaching. Down the hall, there stood Jyszyne, Akorffyn, Gaussanna, and even Halin, all staring in shock at the scene before them; Belal standing against a wall, slouched with a murderous look of hate on his face and clutching a dagger while one of his hands were simply a stump, with Zak standing opposite of him, his right arm soaked with blood and hanging limply at his side, while his left hand clutched his other sword held out in front of him.

"What...?", Halin barely managed to gasp out. And, as though that small sound was the signal, Zak and Belal rushed each other, Belal thrusting out his dagger and shouting with rage, while Zak rushed him, seeming not to care that the dagger was coming inches of stabbing him... Until he suddenly spun on one foot, around his father whose shout turned into surprise as Zak positioned himself behind him and thrust his own blade. Silence reigned for several long moments as father and son stood closer than they ever had, Belal leaning back against Zak, and Zak, eyes screwed shut, rested his cheek against his father's neck, pressing himself against him as he slowly twisted the blade in his father's back, shaking as he did so. Belal gasped gently, and turned slowly to look at his son, tears rolling down Zak's cheeks and face twisted in pain, before the look shifted to shock.

Belal had turned the dagger in his hand to hold it back handed, and had thrust out behind him, stabbing the secondboy in the leg. Zak screamed and ripped his sword out from his father's back, shoving the man forward and slamming him into a wall. Zak did not relent, and thrust his blade once more as Belal attempted to turn and face him. Zak's blade buried itself into Belal's throat, the older drow's eyes wide, and mouth spitting out blood onto Zak's face and in his hair. Zak slowly opened his eyes, and stared at the drow who had been his father and his friend... and twisted the blade, snapping it off into Belal's throat, leaving him impaled to the wall. Zak stumbled away and crashed against the opposite wall, glaring with hatred at Belal as the drow took his final breaths and slumped in death. Zak rested his head against the wall, low, choked sobs coming to him, eyes turning to view his family in disgust with them and himself, eyes falling to his older brother more prominantly. Halin was not looking at Zak, but at Belal stuck to the wall. After a moment, his brother's eyes glew red in anger, turning to Zak, lip curled in a sneer, turning away with a swish of his robes and fled. Zak's eyes filled with pain, confusion, sadness, hatred, and a number of other emotions that filled and bit into him, the swirling mass of negativity filling his eyes even more as his mother and sisters approached. Their steps were hesitant, and their faces pale, though it was not the case with his mother, who was already bone white. No, she didn't even look to care. She seemed pleased, her black stained lips drawn up into a mighty smile of triumph, before she set her gaze on Zak slumped against the wall.

"Akorffyn, Gaussanna... Attend to our new Weapons Master." All three of the women smiled viciously down at Zak... but their smiles faded as they watched all of the emotion in Zak's expressive eyes, the thing that had set him apart from so many other faceless murderers of the drow, emptied. The very light of Zak's eyes seemed to fade, and his face fell expressionless, as though those words had sucked everything right out of the boy. His two sisters, High Priestesses of Lolth, hesitated to move towards him, even taking a step back as he slowly raised himself off the ground, face never changing. Zak dropped his broken sword and took his right blade into his left hand, before saying soflty, "Grab his hair."

Akorffyn blinked and riled herself, "You dare to command a High", she stopped as Zak turned his dead eyes to her, the voids of emptiness taking the words from her throat and stealing the breath from all three of the women's lungs; Akorffyn's in fear, Gaussanna's in lust of the new demeanor her brother was showing, and their mother in excitement and joy. He did not have the face of a nameless drow warrior. He had the eyes and face of a black death to any who crossed him. Wordlessly, Gaussanna moved to grip Belal's long white hair, that had been the envy of many a female and held it up as Zak limped forward, dagger still in his bleeding thigh. The drow warrior cut the hair with a single slice, before slowly sliding his sword into the sheath on his left side, it's appropriate place, and took the hair gingerly from his sister. The two High Priestesses again hesitantly moved towards Zak, who didn't even seem to notice them as he stared at the hair he now clutched tightly in his hand. He didn't flinch when the dagger was pulled from his leg, nor as black flakes covered his skin and slowly sealed the wounds from his fight. He just stared and stared at the hair, not even removing his eyes as he reached out and took his broken blade from the corpse's throat, cutting his hand as he removed it from both stone and flesh. The secondboy and Weapons Master reached down and took up his broken hilt as well, and left the three women standing in the hall, wondering what manner of creature had just left their presence, for it was no longer Zaknaun Rilyn'Dar the secondboy they had known.

Now he was Zaknaun Rilyn'Dar the Weapons Master of House Rilyn'Dar.

[Haseo]

Family.

This word meant different things to me in the coming days. Before, I associated family not with my mother or sisters, but with my father and brother and the bond that we shared. The laughs and jokes. The smiles and secret dreams we each possessed and aspired to reach. Halin had once told me that his greatest desire was something he could never possess; A female that would call him his own. Would not mistreat him and would actually only have him. We both knew that such a wish was fool-hardy, but he said that it was his greatest dream. One that he had every night during his Reveries. Our father had laughed and asked coyly, if it was truly a female that Halin wanted and not a male? Halin's face had twisted in a sneer at our father, while Belal and I had laughed at his expense. Belal's greatest dream he had said then, was to be able to keep his boys close. To never let any harm befall them, so that we three would forever be known as the Rilyn'Dar Trio of Death, fighting and killing any who ventured too near and sought our heads and the place of our House. We would rise through the ranks one day and be equal to even Baenre. He had then, at first I thought jokingly, said that his other dream was to never be replaced as Weapons Master.

I learned that he had not been joking at all. He'd been willing to sacrifice that first dream he'd told us for his second dream. For the dream to continue living our horrible existance. I look back at those memories of us simply being happy with our places in life. I look back at them... and laugh. Not out of happiness. Not out of care. But because if I do not laugh, I will feel dead. I laugh because I believe that is what I should do. What anyone would do. I feel nothing. My heart and dreams died as I thrust my sword into my father's back. Maybe there were just scraped away by his dagger when he shoved it into my leg. Or perhaps... all of me died when I saw my brother's hateful gaze locked upon me, scorning me? It has been a difficult year to say the least.

My hate has grown and my bitterness has engulfed me fully. While I am away on patrols within the Dark Dominion of Menzoberranzan, none within the patrol wish to come near me. They fear the repricussions after watching me fight so brutally, so quickly, and the last who came near. He was attempting to forge an alliance, or so it seemed, so I allowed him to remain by my side. It turns out, that it was just another fool attempting to rise in station by killing a Weapons Master. During a battle with a few duergar, he attempted to slide a dagger into my ribs. I managed to cut the throat of the dwarf I'd been fighting, and turned quickly enough to impale him on both of my swords before his poisoned dagger could strike true. One of the other members of the Patrol attempted to point an accusing finger at me, saying I had killed him in cold blood.

I answered cooly that he attempted to kill me first, and if any protested it, step forward. Of course, no one did. My station is a curse. So many would covet such a thing, and I recieved this unwanted 'gift' by killing my own father out of nessecity. And now there are those that want me dead, simply because they want it. Fools. My blades have tasted more blood of both enemies of the drow and the drow themselves in the past year than they ever have in the full sixty five years of my life. I no longer have dreams. I no longer care. My world is only a nightmare that I can not rouse myself from, and with my blades, I form my sphere of denial and violence, keeping the horrible, undeniable truths of my world at bay. Within my sphere, nothing can touch me. Nothing can hurt me. Nothing, but my own wretched self.
-Zaknaun Rilyn'Dar

[Haseo]

Chapter 3

Zaknaun Rilyn'Dar stared long and hard out of his balcony window. He'd heard the whispers. All in his House had. Another House intended to move upon House Rilyn'Dar, intended to raise in their station and play out the overplayed machinations of the Spider Queen. To kill their own kind and come off the better for it. House Rilyn'Dar, however, was in the full favor of Lady Lolth, and he knew not who would be foolish enough to move against them. And surely, they wouldn't move so soon. All of the House had been pulled back into the compound, Matron Jyszyne fearing assault upon her family. Not out of concern for their actual well being, but out of concern for keeping the power of the family with the family.

Zak reached down to his belt and quietly began to feel the long braid of white hair that was wrapped around it, left to dangle. This had been his father's hair, and next to it was a similar braid, though with a slightly more yellowish tint to it; The hair of the first Matron Mother he had ever killed, during the war that had lifted the family from the station of Eleventh of Menzoberranzan, to the Tenth. They were close now, so very close to being one of the ruling Houses. He could still remember sneaking into the Matron's antechambers and killing her five daughters before they even knew that death was upon them. He was a dance of shadows and a blade of terror ever more after that, with whispers running through Menzoberranzan that the next great Weapons Master had arisen, following the steps of Zaknafein Do'Urden and Uthengentel Armgo as one of the deadliest yet. Zak cared nothing for these titles of 'prestige'. He cared only for fighting those stronger than him and killing them. They fed his existance. They proved he lived to himself.

"Hello, little brother..."

Zak slowly looked over his shoulder at Gaussanna, who visibly shuddered in delight when he looked at her with a deadness that would humble a lich. Gaussanna had not attempted, even once, to touch him since his murder of Belal, delighting in just looking at him. That, and the last time she'd moved to touch him, he'd nearly sliced off her fingers. Such an act would have had a normal male executed, especially since he committed such heresy in front of his sister and mother, who had just recently given birth to a female. But the coldness of his gaze the emptiness of his very mind and soul, still continued to stun the rest of House Rilyn'Dar to no end. It was the very thing that kept Gaussanna from her continued rape attempts and Halin from killing Zak.

Zaknaun dully thought, 'I want them to try. I want them all to try.' Zak no longer cared who he killed any longer. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered to the empty dark elf. It didn't matter to him that Guassanna slowly sidled up next to him, though refrained from touching him. It didn't matter to him that she was attempting to invade his mind and incite feelings of lust, or even desire. She was only met with a wall of hate, as always. Zaknaun turned on his heel and strode away, leaving his sister to glare after him. Her glares didn't matter, her desire didn't matter. She'd die soon enough, he knew. She would not contain herself for long. Zak had more important things to worry about, like the shadow he'd seen creeping along the perimeter of the Rilyn'Dar compound. Zak kept his eye on it as he passed between the pillars of the servants section. He'd been watching this particular shadow for the better part of the hour, and the black death of Narbondel was fast approaching. Zak's breath was slowly increasing in tempo, and his hands slid up to grip the hilts of his swords, eyes beginning to glow red. Any soldier of Rilyn'Dar that passed their new Weapons Master quickly moved aside, and he paid them no heed, even as they watched with gaping expressions at the unstable expression quickly beginning to light up his face. The slaves openly fled in terror of him, and nearly all movement froze as Zaknaun froze, staring at the no longer moving shadow. The slaves could not breath the thick aura of death emenating from Zak, and the soldiers could only stare in a sort of stupified awe.

The shadow suddenly jerked and fled from the perimeter, and Zak said in a voice both low and resonating, "Prepare yourselves. The attack comes within the hour." No one moved for several seconds, until a wicked grin parted Zak's face, and his tongue slowly and frighteningly slipped from his lips, wetting them as he imagined the droves of hundreds of soldiers rushing to meet death. To meet the slowly growing insanity trapped within a physical form. The head clerics of the House rushed to the antechamber where Matron Jyszyne was already locked away, Gaussanna casting one look back at her brother who stood prestine in the infared vision of the drow, his form never heating, actually cooling as the thoughts of murderer slowly seeped into her mind from her continued invasion. Gaussanna nearly felt sick from the hate that poured off of him, and she ran, if only to escape the festering monster that her brother had become.

***

Matron Jyszyne and her daughters knelt in prayer around their idol of Lolth, all of them whispering their dark and evil incantations to their Goddess, praying for the power to defend against the slowly growing ache that was beginning to throb in their minds. They were fighting on equal footing with their opposers, however, and the protective wards all around the compound began to silently hum with power. They heard it before anyone else, the whooping and hollering, and silently they all looked to the idol in concern. They knew which House it was that was attacking, just from those lone sounds. A House both terrifying and mystifying. They observed nothing of subtlety, and yet, they more than made up for it with their berserker like ways. The House Maemtor. The rest of Menzoberranzan despised the fourteenth House, but they made no move to eradicate them because they had thus far been successful. They were monsters one and all, and they were on their way. Matron Jyszyne summoned Zaknaun to the doors, her mind actually feeling slightly burned the moment she touched her son's horribly bitter mind. But she could feel him now, coming to the doors of the antechamber, and standing guard with six others, all of whom were female soldiers and clerics. They could only pray now, and hope that theirs were heard louder than the offending House.

***

Zak could hear the screams of dying soldiers, both of Rilyn'Dar and of Maemtor. He felt nothing as he heard those that he had passed innumerable times dying all around, and he even felt nothing as he saw the rush of enemy soldiers come down the hall, pursuing the cowards that had not stood and run. They stopped short, however, when the Weapons Master set his gaze on them. This was no longer Zaknaun Rilyn'Dar. This was what had come to be known amongst House Rilyn'Dar as Elghinn; Literally meaning, Death. Both soldiers of his own House and Maemtor stopped short as they gazed into the shaking scarlet eyes of Elghinn. Gone was the emotionless and blank features that sucked the breath of all who looked at them, replaced with a twitching grin and wide shaking eyes.

Even the soldiers and clerics that stood in front of Elghinn felt uneasy and nauseous, so terrified they were at being closed to this monster. A light hiss came from the drow warrior's throat as he drew both of his blades, walking through the six that were supposed to stand in front of him and wear down the troops before they met with the Weapons Master. They parted before him, all flinching at the sound of scraping metal as the tips of his swords dragged along the stone ground. The formerly fleeing troops of Rilyn'Dar carefully pressed themselves against the walls as Zak passed them, each scooting over to the guard of the antechamber doors. The House Maemtor soldiers, however, took a step back. They were berserkers one and all, each armed with large swords, axes, and even spears... But the look in Elghinn's eyes spelled doom, and his grin hungered for blood that chilled even they. The Weapons Master stopped seven feet ahead of them though and asked, so lowly that all strained to hear what he said. And then they wished that they hadn't.

[Haseo]

"Who amongst you is strongest? Tell me... I don't want to ruin your hair..." A larger drow stepped forward, the only amongst them that was not nervously glancing over their shoulder. She was a tall, round shouldered and round hipped female, and she wielded a spear that seemed to glow with magic when gazed at through infravision. She pointed the spear at Zak with no fear in her eyes, and grinned wildly at him, "You all should be ashamed. Being scared by a male." She had looked back at her troops when she said this, but when she looked back at Zak, she saw he was no longer grinning with madness. He was frowning in fact, and seemed furious about something. He pointed his sword at her and hissed, "Your hair is short... I hate you... I hate you! I can't have your hair... it will never do." The woman blinked in confusion at the raging male. She knew her hair was short, but why would such a thing make a difference to...

Looking him over again, she saw the two braids of white hair hanging from his belt and she knew what he wanted. Pointing her spear at it, she sneered softly, "What? Kill your own soldiers and take their hair, pathetic male?!" Her words didn't have the desired effect she wanted, instead only making Elghinn grin wide and his face to begin twitching gently as he rested a sword against both of the braids, hissing, "No. The first was from my father when I stabbed him in the throat after he tried to kill me. And this one..." The drow seemed to shake for a moment, before he broke into a cackle, looking to the ceiling, before he snapped his gaze back on the woman, "This one came from Matron Zeerith." Every one of the Maemtor soldiers froze, not believing what the Weapons Master had just declared. That it was the lowly, at the time, Eleventh House that had eliminated one of the ruling Houses? The attack had been so brutal, so vicious, and so silent, no one had seen it. There weren't even hints of who it had been, leaving all of the Houses to draw a single conclusion; There had been a powerful invisiblity spell cast on the attacking House. But for it to have been...

Even the woman with her spear felt nervous now. But she didn't have time to be nervous, as Elghinn dashed, wading right in with his weapons leading the way, knocking her spear aside. The woman attempted to move it back and smack him with the shaft, but the deft drow rolled under the attack and came up with two pokes of his swords, each one cutting into her side. Roaring in pain and anger, the woman swung back and managed to catch him in the side with the shaft. The weapon stopped and held firm as it hit Elghinn though, and his smile only widened. His arm was locked around the weapon tightly, with both of his feet against the wall, preventing her from pushing it any farther. Growling, the woman jerked it back, but was overbalanced the second she did; He'd pushed with his feet against the wall as well, and now, the deadly drow was soaring towards her, his blades leading the way, one sliding along her stomach and the other along her leg. The woman cried in pain and sudden fear as she was dropped to her knees, with the agile Zak quickly turning on one leg, the other soaring out in what looked like a kick. The moment his leg made contact though, everyone realized this was not the case.

He had wrapped his leg tightly around her head, squeezing it painfully between the chain-mesh and leather. He only had it wrapped around her lower face, crushing her nose and jaw, while leaving her eyes and forehead exposed. The woman's eyes widened as Zak's blade soared towards her exposed face.

For a moment, it looked as though he had missed, and all held their breaths at the slowly falling piwafwi of Zaknaun, the drow cloak only now able to settle after the startling speed and whirling movements of the short fight. Zak held his prestine position, the woman's head still locked firmly in place by his leg, and one of the Maemtor's shouted, "You missed, fool!" A laugh rose amongst the soldiers, and they slowly began to approach... But stopped short as Elghinn set his eyes on them, wide and shaking, and his tongue wetting his lips disturbingly again...

And the top part of the woman's head slid off, blood and gore pouring out of the open cavity as though it were a chalice spilling its contents on the floor. Several hardened warriors gagged, while most just stared in fear at the look that spelled their doom only growing more frantic on the face of the Weapons Master, sweat beading on his head and rolling down his face, appearing white hot on his otherwise cool features, his leg unlocking from around the ruin that had once been a head and face. And he leaped at the others, screaming in a maniacal rage, unleashing his hatred, his fury, his pain, his torment, his despair, all of his passionate emptiness on the remaining drow warriors, who attempted to flee with cries of fear. Several were cut down in the first swing of his blade. There would be no escape, only death for those that stood before Elghinn, and his screams were shriller and louder than any of the others, reverberating down the halls and chilling any who heard them to the bone.

Zaknaun ran along the wall, chasing after the retreating forces, a few managing to turn and fire their hand cross bows at him. Elghinn, however, would not allow himself to die by such trite objects, and knocked the darts away easily with a sword, still screaming after them. He leaped, right into the middle of the group of Maemtor berserkers turned cowards, blades lashing out and felling two easily, before he twisted and rolled on the ground, parrying the half-hearted strike of one of the soldiers, instantly twisting the blade up and out. The Weapons Master hacked off the drow's wrist, one of his favorite battle methods and, before he even had a chance to scream, Zak screamed loudly and kicked out with all his force, knocking the drow back between two pillars and into the railing... only for the poor soul to flip over it and go plummeting to his doom at the bottom of the cavern floor. Zak turned quickly and caught the blow of a spear with one of his swords, turned it downwards, and then stamped on the shaft, snapping it, only to spring forward and thrust his blade into the female who had thrusted, twisting the blade as it entered her belly and screaming in her face as she screamed along with him, before he drew back and slashed his other blade across her throat, sending her to the ground.

The soldiers were in retreat again, but Elghinn just continued his pursuit, screaming so terribly that all the Houses around the Rilyn'Dar compound shivered as the scream wafted out across that section of Menzoberranzan.

The battle slowly shifted in favor of House Rilyn'Dar, the warriors of House Maemtor retreating from the insanity that had engulfed Zaknaun Rilyn'Dar, sobs interlaced with his screams as he chased those who would not surrender through the compound, leaving many to hide from his furious blades as a group of soldiers and clerics of Rilyn'Dar followed the raging Weapons Master far behind, killing those that were only left wounded in his wake, and quietly sheltering those who surrendered with tearful faces, not allowing the crazed Weapons Master to see them, gathering more Rilyn'Dar soldiers as they went, some even attempting to move and assist Zak in his fight. Many of them came back with nicks from Zak's own blades. Some didn't come back at all. But all heard the screams and sobs interlaced of Zaknaun, and that terrible cry incited fear into all who heard it, even those who obeyed and fought with the Weapons Master. The battle lasted little more than an hour, as the clerics of Rilyn'Dar slowly crushed the advances of the clerics of Maemtor, and the light of Narbondel began to slowly rise in the distance.

The battle was over. It was finished. House Rilyn'Dar had survived, relatively in-tact. There wouldn't even be any question as to who was the better of the two Houses, and Rilyn'Dar would not even be dissolved and spread out amongst the other Houses. Rilyn'Dar would remain the Tenth House. Any who looked into the courtyard and saw the Weapons Master on his knees, rocking back and forth, swords still in his hands and clutching his hair, screaming with his face towards the ground, however, would find that a very little comforting fact. The lower Houses would fear to attack the House of Rilyn'Dar. The higher Houses would fear the attack from the House of Black Hearts. The screams drifted out along the city, and permeated the children of Rilyn'Dar's minds, leaving even the children of the heartless drow to cower in fear of the terrible cries. As Matron Jyszyne exitted the antechamber, flanked by her daughters with the head clerics close behind, they all looked down at Zak. They looked down and, not for the first time, wondered if he was truly an asset... or a liability. The Matron was able to keep her spine from tingling, but the other two could not as the screams reached their ears, Akorffyn barely whispering, "Matron... What is he?"

Jyszyne raised her nose and breathed out, voice calm, "The insanity of a corpse that still breaths." The females all exchanged glances, before their eyes snapped back to the ground staring at where Zak still sat on his knees. He was silent, and seemingly limp. His arms hung at his sides, barely gripping his blades any longer. Jyszyne looked over to her two daughters, both who looked to her with concern as their brother rose from the ground, sliding his swords into their sheaths as he did so, and skulked away. He did not stride, nor walk. It was as though the secondboy was no longer in his body, and it was moving of its own accord. Gaussanna quietly whispered lowly, "My... body feels like ice."

The other two sincerly wished she'd kept her words to herself, as similar feelings found holds on them.

Halin watched from the entrance of the compound, eyeing his unstable brother as he slowly ascended the stairs. The moment that Zak reached him, Halin cooly asked, "Where'd you go, psychopath?" Zak didn't even look at his brother, but he did stop for several moments, just standing there as if he were contemplating how to answer. Obviously finding nothing to say, Zak simply continued walking. It had been the first time that Halin had talked to him in the past year, and Zak wasn't sure if he should have felt joy or resentment towards his brother. The Weapons Master was simply too tired to feel any sort of emotion, and his body was ladden with small scrapes and cuts. All he wanted to do was disappear into the room that had become his. The room that had at one point belonged to his father.

But it didn't seem he'd even be granted that as he saw his mother and sisters swooping towards he and Halin. Both nobles fell into bows before the Matron, neither looking up for an instant, so neither saw the shaky smile that slowly traced her lips as she looked down at both of the males. They did however, hear the vileness in her tone as she purred, "Well, the males prove useful. Halin, your magical troops were able to keep the southern entrance protected nicely. How many did you fell in battle personally?" The elderboy knew exactly what was going on, and it filled him with bitterness as he answered, "Thirteen, Matron Mother." Jyszyne managed a low smile and asked, "And you, Zaknaun?" The drow was unresponsive for several long moments, before an empty answer followed, one that was neither icy nor warm. A simple fact to be observed, so unlike his violent fighting displayed only an hour ago. "I cannot remember them all." Jyszyne wore a falsely pleasant mask, and asked coldly, "Oh? Then am I to assume you killed only a few? Am I to assume that my Weapons Master-" She froze as Zak raised his eyes to her, and she hated the feelings he now inspired in her with his coldness.

"I cannot remember, Matron Jyszyne. The trail from your antechamber to the courtyard, I assume would be my doing though", the answer was more accenuated now, and had he been any other male, he would have been summarily whipped. But Jyszyne and all the females stilled their hands, having just walked that trail of death and blood, not wanting to rattle the unstable Weapons Master any further. Zak and Jyszyne stared at one another, the Matron attempting to dominate his mind, his body, anything and intimidate him. But it was as if there was nothing there where Zak had been; Like he was simply a corpse damaged too badly to repair. Like there was no soul remaining within the broken husk that was Zaknaun Rilyn'Dar. The drow warrior stood and nodded to his mother, leaving without another word. No one said a thing. They knew... that now it was time to prepare for Drow justice.

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