RP:Deja Vu

Part of the Surface Tension Arc

Synopsis: In a strangely similar occurrence to the last time they met, Xersom and Skylei meet in Sage. Skylei finds the former general surrounded by the bodies of dead and dying drow. After the last of his victims are dead, the two walk and talk about Skylei's hopes for the outcome of the recent conflicts, including the reunification of the dispersed wood elves. It seems that Xersom didn't manage to exterminate all of the scouting party, as they are happened upon by a lone drow whom Skylei quickly dispatches in order to prove herself.

Northern Sage Forest

Skylei’s been in Larket attending to some of her scholarly business at the Academy of Magic. Rather than taking the longwinded route home; consisting of taking an airship across to Rynvale followed by a trek and then a boat across to her home city of Cenril, she’s decided, yet again, to risk the forest that, in spite of all her best efforts, remains infected with drow. She’s a lone figure, naturally conspicuous in times of such heightened tension, draped in a full-length green cloak and the usual traditional leathers of her people. Bow strapped to her back, and a paltry looking dagger in hand, Skylei walks with her head dipped low choosing to stay to the more central but less trodden paths, rather than the commonly walked paths of the periphery of the woods. Every so often, a sound makes her stir from her constant pace and pause to listen to the sounds of the forest. So far, the only groups of people (she assumes drow) she has heard have been far enough in the distance that she’s had no reason to panic.

Xersom, in the contrast to Skylei's movements in the forest, stood within its boundaries without concern for recognition of him or his garb present; it was the usual ragged robes of a hermit traveler and the old and gnarled walking stick that he leaned upon. The man with the faux face stood in a clearing that Skylei's path opened up to, and it was around his form that there were four drow that had abruptly seemed to become deceased according to their poses lying in the ground. All of them seemed to have their hands around their own necks, as if grasped to let themselves breath, with faces frozen in a gasping look. The former general of Arrecation idly ran his thumb against the wedding band on the same hand as the other tightened slightly around his old and gnarled stick; his back was to Skylei, but it was highly unlikely that he did not know that she was there.

Skylei arrives into the clearing to a familiar sight. There’s a man in rags, resting upon an old walking stick surrounded by the bodies of their mutual, and ever so dead, enemy. Something about the reappearance of that sight is so potent, filled with such strong memories, that Skylei pauses in her step to just marvel in the joy that the death of her dark skinned cousins brings her. To the man, who looks away from her, Skylei now speaks, “Is it your intention to wipe them out little by little as you do currently,” She begins walking towards Xersom, closing the distance between the two so that they might converse without being clearly audible outside of the clearing. As she draws aside one of the frozen faced dead, she cannot help but offer a subtle and soft, but definite, kick, “Or are you merely adding to the provocation of war so that the elves might do as you wish?”

Xersom did not turn that perfect mask on his face to lay his faux and intense green eyes upon her; they remained affixed to the treeline at the edge of the clearing. From there slowly floated into the clearing two drow archers, suspended in the air and clutching at their necks as they suffocated as if hung aloft by a pair of nooses. "Neither are bad ideas," he said without dismissing either as a possible intent of his agenda, though there was a distinct impression of something altogether different with his subsequent words, "Though were I to wipe the drow out, I'd strike at their heart rather than their forests, and would the elves do as I wished, this forest full of drow would be burned to the ground with all of your dark-skinned cousins in it. No, I work neither to command the elves nor kill the drow." He slowly shifted his old and gnarled stick into his opposite hand, "Do you see their faces?" The question came as one of the drow reached out toward Skylei as he choked, grasping at the air in either a plea or announcement of contempt, as the other's eyes fluttered and rolled back. "Is it satisfying that your face is the last one they see before they die?"

Skylei draws aside Xersom and looks up at the faces of the two drow as they hurtle ever closer to their death. Her arms cross across her chest as she stares straight into the eyes of the man with his hand outstretched towards her. There is a flash of humanity that tears through her being, bringing pity and the desire to beg Xersom not to let him die before it is instantly suppressed by racial tradition, years of exile and torment and that all too fulfilling. This perhaps explains why she speaks with such conviction to confirm his question, “Of course. What exile doesn’t dream of being present to witness the destruction of those who took their home? It’s poetic justice.” Sure as she sounds, her humanity stirs and demands her attention as she looks onto that face of the archer with the rolled back eyes, “It’s what they deserve.” Still, she turns her face away to look towards the side of his, rather than be faced with the sight of the outstretched hand any longer, “The Underdark isn’t the kind of place one ventures and comes out alive.”

Xersom did not look toward Skylei still as his intense and almost luminous green gaze remained upon the two even as the exile turned to face him; she did not witness their final seconds as they finally succumbed to death. Only the sounds of their bodies hitting the earth in two heaps signal to the elf their demise as Sacrilus turned his attention now entirely upon her. "On the contrary, I have done so. Now the drow are wary for the day I return, and they lose their minds to the anguish that I bring. But such a day is far away, and it is not something that you should be concerned with. Come, help me walk." His own hand, scarred with the self-made carvings of some infernal litany in a language long since forgotten, bent to offer her the crook of his elbow as he leaned heavily on his walking stick, "Have you already given up your noble charge?"

Skylei is hard pressed not to wince at the sounds of the bodies hitting the ground. When had she become so overly sensitive towards the death of those she hated so? It’s shameful and something she fights hard to disguise by placing a smile onto her elven visage as those lives end, “I dared delve below the surface after we first met. I found that unthoughtful missions into the Underdark are unwise. Of course, I shan’t make that mistake again.” Skylei would take his arm as it is offered, though does not do so without some hint of reservation. She is only made too aware by the liberal scattering of bodies around the clearing. Of course, should you want a bodyguard in Sage, Skylei can think of no one better. Once she has made the decision to take his arm, she allows him to walk in the direction that he so wishes. “Quite the contrary. I plan and I plan, and I hope you’ll be well aware when my plans come into fruition.”

Xersom , if he had noticed the manner at which Skylei suppressed a weakened will to the death of those that had displaced her, did not comment or make apparent of it; he continued a limping and hobbled gait that had him leaning against Skylei and the old and gnarled cane. This gave a better accent to his hermit-looking appearance, and it was entirely likely that he truly didn't have this crippled step and was simply feigning it. "Ah, and you had escaped with your life, no less. Impressive," he complimented as they neared the edge of the clearing, "Planning is well, but you must take care not to allow your opportunity to pass in continued planning. This is the home of your ancestors, of your family, and it is violated every moment that the drow remain treading upon the buried and dead of your kind."

Skylei continues to assist Xersom in his gait as they approach the end of the clearing, leaving the newly dead behind them. As he turns his words to planning and the violation of Sage, Skylei chooses to rebut his words, “And it will continue to be violated by their presence until they in their entirety are dead or driven back below the ground. If I move to quickly, then I likely won’t live to see that happen. Being the last thing a dying man sees is one thing, being present to witness the entire people driven away from my home is something better.” As they continue in this discussion, Skylei grows less and less aware and vigilant in her surroundings. Her reliance on Xersom to protect her may not be obvious, but it’s near enough total.

Xersom has become aware of Skylei's lack of vigilance and awareness of her surroundings; as they moved he had already killed silently several drow archers that had taken aim toward the two. That is not to say there couldn't be one or two that he had missed, however, and as a result of this possibility he remained silent for longer during his pauses; he didn't cease his limping gait. He was more akin to an old hermit with a doting daughter than his young faux face would imply, the way that he nearly mastered the walk and garb that he donned to back up the visage he intended to sell to the perception of others. "Very wise words," he complimented finally after a moment or two of silence in the air, "And very promising. That you can forsake instant gratification for a delayed and greater one. Your timing is crucial, then, to not move too quickly or too slowly. And of your people? Have they joined your cause? Or do you still act in their ignorance? Sometimes the latter is better if you must do things that are... difficult to do."

Skylei almost smiles at his words. They ring so terribly true, “What I plan is too large for a single person. Every attack on the drow, every death that is reported and, most importantly every elven man or woman who is foolish enough to make themselves a martyr to this cause will be utilised in the reunification of the elven people. All those feelings; the anger, the hatred, the regret, the betrayal, I’ll find a way to take all of those feelings and put them to good use once I have them unified.” Skylei sees this as the most logical way to move forward, once the elven people are angry enough at the constant stream of deaths being reported. She may or may not have spread a few faux stories into the mix in Frostmaw too, but who’s counting anymore? Multiple ‘dead’ elves serve her purpose far better than one or two. “But for now, they remain unaware to my-” Skylei pauses in her gait and in her words, “People move nearby.” She would not be surprised if Xersom had already heard them moving.

Xersom smiled a subtle and brief smile that tugged at the corner of flawless and faux lips due to the words of Skylei; her plans were not unlike his own at all and cemented his belief that he had chosen correctly in the exile. Her words actually caught him briefly off-guard; it has difficult to spread his attention so, and it was not at all surprising that people escaped his notice -what startled him inwardly was that they escaped his notice enough to the point where the elf took note of them. Her pause caused him to as well, and he opted instead of scrying himself to look toward her expectantly; a test. How many were there? How would she handle it? Assuredly, he wouldn't let her die when she seemed so promising, but for now he was curious. "What do you propose we do?" They were now in the forest and not the clearing, where trees chopped their line of sight and the ambience was woven amongst the sounds of the people; this made it more difficult to discern them.

Skylei closes her eyes for the briefest moment allowing herself to ‘lock on’, as best she can, to the sounds that travel towards them, blanketed by the foliage, from the north. “Whoever it is, I think they’re alone. There’s only the sound of a single person’s movements,” she murmurs to Xersom. Still, Skylei make no movement neither continuing along the path, nor reaching for her bow or even taking her arm from the man. For all she knows the lone figure that moves is one of the few elves that hide below the radar in Sage or one of the many travellers that frequent the forest. She looks to her companion, continuing in hushed tones “Were I alone, I would choose to ascend one of the trees until I can ascertain exactly who it is that walks towards us, but I fear that might not be the best option in these circumstances.”

Xersom closed his own faux eyes in order to reach out with his mind perhaps more literally than Skylei's attempt to 'lock on', as it were, in order to ascertain who and what was approaching, but given the information he did not divulge it to Skylei or take matters into his own hands. Those almost luminous eyes opened again to meet Skylei's, "Indeed. So, perhaps we will await the lone person here?" It wasn't a suggestion, really, but moreso a question of the direction she wanted the event to unfold. His arm was still looped in the elf's for the feign of a crippled nature as her confession caused him to sweep his gaze upward and toward the trees. He was never really one to 'climb', or hide as it were; as proven his fighting style consisted of him standing in one location and using his superior magic skill to defeat multiple opponents. Yet, the sword that hung half-veiled at his hip that seemed to be so dark it sucked in the very light immediately around it suggested that he wasn't unskilled in melee combat, though it wasn't something proven through witness. "I will follow your lead."

Confrontation in the forest doesn’t exactly fit into Skylei’s master plan but, given the nature of her companion and Skylei’s completely unfathomable desire to impress the man who had so inspired her vendetta action against the drow. And so she would nod and comply with his suggestion. Skylei would look from side to side, her eyes finding only row after row of identical trees, separated by varying foliage. The person whoever they might be is only moving closer and so whatever decision she makes needs to be made quickly. Unlike Xersom, Skylei fights from a distance. She prefers comfortable vantage points, cloaking mechanisms and remaining in the shadows to facing an opponent boot to boot. Fortunately, she decides that sticking to proven methods of conflict are preferable to attempting to impress her companion and so without another word she would begin to climb the nearest tree. Once settled in the branches she begins scanning the foliage for the approaching individual.

Xersom didn't chuckle at the antic of the woman, but he did smile with a subtle humor for the brief moment that she climbed that nearest tree to settle easily in its branches. The man, on the contrary, opted to haunch his back and give himself far more of a crippled and roving hermit appeal; the sort that was unthreatening and perhaps maddened by their isolation like a raving prophet. His body leaned upon his old and gnarled stick that served as a cane, as his intense eyes locked to where the individual would approach from. There was a call from the forsaken general, "Come forth, you should startle a wanderer like myself."

As expected, when Skylei makes herself hidden, Xersom does not follow. At the sound of a voice, the individual whose movements had so startled Skylei previous makes themselves known. From between two of the tightly packed trees, the spot from which Xersom’s sight has been trained, the traditionally dressed figure of a drow ranger appears and begins making demands of the hermit like figure, “Show yourself. What business do you have in Sage, traveller?” With his attention taken by Xersom, he doesn’t even glance up to the tree where Skylei sits disguised in green and brown. Nearly as soon as the drow archer has finished speaking, Skylei releases tree arrows in quick succession. The first strikes the drow in the neck, designed to sever the artery and windpipe in the man’s neck and, once removed would leave him to bleed to death. The second two are designed to pin the archer against the tree behind him and thus prevent him from instantly fleeing. Skylei has been running on the assumption that Xersom will collaborate with her plan but, just in case she would begin a hasty descent, her hood pulled low over her eyes for now.

Xersom did nothing but watch as the man's cry was strangled immediately by the arrow that embedded into his windpipe and artery, as well as pinned him against the tree. When he did move, it was a slow and almost predatory movement that brought him toward the wounded drow, until he reached out with a scar-laden hand and gripped firmly the dark flesh of the ranger's neck. The subsequent and disgusting sound of his spine snapping horrifically was evidence to the twist of Sacrilus' arm, merciless and ruthless as he turned toward Skylei. "Aye, you work better alone. I must, as it were, attend to something. I feel confident that my faith in your cause will not diminish, and I believe in the future, I will have attained something that will aid you." It caused a sinister and soothing smile to cross his features as he prepared for his magical departure; after Skylei's reply, his form would burst into mercurial darkness that would dissipate on the air.

Skylei watches as the life of that ranger is very quickly and effectively wiped out at Xersom’s hands. Once that business is attended to, all she would say in response to his words was, “I will trust that you’ll find me when the time comes.” They remain as they always have done, without names or identities as far as the other is concerned. Merely two people whose goals have aligned. It’s easier that way. Once Xersom dissipates into nothingness, Skylei would roll her eyes and attend to removing her arrow from the deceased’s neck and wiping it clean. No need to waste a good arrow on a drow.