RP: A trip down memory lane - Sin Arc

Date of RP: 8/28/2021 (Before Hurricane Ida arrives)

Story Arc: Sin's Resurgence

Setting: Mesdoram's Home behind the Trist'oth Tavern

Story inspired by Karasu's challenge - Story is Cannon to Mesdoram's story

Chapter 1: Mesdoram's Homecoming

Blood-stained clothes, daggers dripping red droplets and white sinew, skin splattered in a crimson polka dotted pattern: the clear indicators a drow coming back from a scuffle. Mesdoram strides proudly into the jerry-rigged house that he has called home since his return to Hollow – his humble dwelling is located in the darkest part of the Trist’oth Tavern’s alley. Draped over the building's southern wall is a tattered turquoise tarp anchored into the surrounding walls; and much like a single studio apartment, the small 50 by 50-foot room is an amalgamation of a kitchen, bedroom, and common area for a single occupant – Mesdoram, and at times, Nariv.

Stripping himself of his heavy equipment, Mesdoram throws his brown backpack, assortment of weapons, and his armor near the entrance way with intentions to slip into more comfortable and cleaner clothes. Now wearing his simple blue robe, the drow makes his way to sit down on a brittle bucket (this bucket being one the few luxuries in his tented house). Mesdoram begins looking down at his floor where he kept his notes, plans and to-do lists arranged carefully in neat piles: death threats and crude trinkets to send, people to ‘visit’ and shakedown, and other random future plans and blueprint designs – none which include furnishing his home. As Mesdoram gets lost and fixated with his agendas, a peeping visitor peers through the only entrance to his quaint housing and ‘closes’ the door behind her – it is Nariv dressed in her proper, well-kept white dress with her green enhanced jewelry, face unshrouded by her veil to showcase her ‘SIN’ marking knife-a-sketched into her forehead.

From Mesdoram's perplexing look, the drow was not expecting Nariv - He looks up to glare at her. “Nariv… you are not supposed to be here tonight. Leave and do not disobey my orders again.” Mesdoram commands his slave sternly and points to the exit as he returns his attention to his work. To those who have seen these two interact publicly, many would be wary of the elven slave’s wellbeing. Little did they know, their relationship of this slave and master runs deeper than simple servitude. Nariv scoffs sarcastically at her master’s command – since Mesdoram’s play at Valkrin’s Slave Market, the two of them have meet very scarcely to maintain a lower profile. Nariv, appearing uncharacteristically bold, walks over to the northern wall of the shanty townhouse and playfully pets the brick. “Silly Mesdoram. You’re forgetting your place…” The pitter-patter of her rhythmic finger tapping begins resonating louder as Nariv increases impact and tempo. “… Do I need to remind you who is in charge… again?” The tone from a usually docile slave girl shifts into gleeful mocking of her master; the taunting from Nariv sends the normally cocky drow into a momentary state of shock – very brief. Following the temporary crack in Mesdoram’s steely façade is a heavy irritated groan from the drow.

“Ah, now I see…” Mesdoram states while looking up to Nariv with an aggravated look on his face. After meticulously rearranging his papers to their proper place, Mesdoram begins rubbing his head to slow the anxiety building inside his body too quickly – he fears this evening will not be as pleasant as him passing out drunk tonight. “… We are going to have an eventful evening tonight, aren't we slave?" Despite the anticipation of tribulations tonight, Mesdoram defiantly boasts his massive ego he's created for himself. Futher pushing Nariv's boundaries, the drow presses forward. "And what will it be this time, eh? Are you going to showcase your tragic backstory with grandeur and spectacular illusions again? Are we going to walk down memory lane to all the evil we have committed?” Still looking downwards, Mesdoram has a hypothesis he decides to test.

“In fact,” Without the slightest hesitation, Mesdoram obtains an empty bottle of whiskey and launches the vessel violently straight at Nariv's head. The glassy projectile is flung with deadly prowess: the air inside Mesdoram’s home cycles in and out of the bottle's opening and recreates a ‘bottle-rocket-equse’ whistle filling the dwelling with an ear-piercing scream. With ease, the vacant container shatters into a myriad of pieces upon impacting the brickwall; strangely enough, the trajectory of this bottle travelled straight through Nariv’s head and into the building – proving Mesdoram’s improvised scientific theory: Nariv is projecting her astral form from afar.

“I bet you aren’t even here…” Mesdoram surmises as his premise is proven correct. Upon realizing Nariv’s physical presence is absent, Mesdoram grabs a full unopened bottle of his favorite whiskey and begins consuming the liquid with little concern to Nariv anymore… or just preparing for what is to come. Nariv’s ethereal form snickers a bit while still facing away from her master. “Your whiskey will not protect you from me this evening.” The elf steady tap, tap, taps form an improvised metronome matching the tempo of each gulp of whiskey from the drow. “I think you do need a reminder of why I kept you alive...”

With that being said, Nariv’s magik form phases effortlessly into the wall and begins transforming the brickwall into a large makeshift broken door – ebbing and flowing like ripples in the water, the entire northern wall is now a crude, decrepit wooden door. The transfigured doorflap swings open slowly and reveals a pitch-black empty void awaiting the unphased drow master. Anticipating for a long night, Mesdoram holds up one finger to the entranceway to delay his torturous evening and downs his entire bottle of whiskey. Pausing for a moment, he speaks loudly into the shadows. “If we are going to do this, slave…” Finishing his last remnants of his drink, Mesdoram confidently throws the empty bottle into the dark nothingness and shouts. “… you best bring your A-Game, Nariv!”

Suddenly, the vacant shadowy vacuum shines a brilliant bright arcane light cascading upon the arrogant drow – the rays of corporeal energy wraps Mesdoram in a tightly cocoon sealed of magic; the energy constricts and secures Mesdoram in this vice and pulls him into his hellish torment for this evening. Shutting with little effort, the door closes the moment the drow’s dark complexion disappears into abyss. The door dissipates into the foundation of the Trist’oth Tavern and restores the brickwork. All that is left in Mesdoram’s home are his belongings, the newly finished bottle alcohol shattered on the floor, and a newly arrive Nariv who enter through the house’s only true doorway. The female elf grins a very satisfied smile as she watches Mesdoram’s impromptu departure from his house, only offering these words to a now Mesdoram-less home.

“Foolish Mesdoram... let’s start from the beginning again, shall we?”

Chapter 2 – Brothers reunited

In the blink of an eye, Mesdoram is transported to a very drastic change of scenery: the azure blue sky is paired with the glowing bright sun shining serinely upon the town of Qu’isto – the birthplace of Mesdoram and his brother, Vexar. Surrounding this quiet elven town are a multitude of greenery, hills, and forests providing shade and protection from the sun’s harmful rays. Teeming with wild life and proud inhabitants, Qu’isto operates much like a normal society: adults crafting nessasities and collecting today's harvest of wheat and fruit; children playing carefree and riding horses haphazardly through town, and the elders chastising and warning them to slow down. A beautiful river flows next to Qu’isto, proving good and water as well as difficult passage for any foreign invaders to navigate around. This town is the opposite of where a devilish drow would come from, but nevertheless this is Mesdoram’s hometown.

Watching this tranquil scene unfold stand two people occupying a southern hill overlooking the village: Mesdoram and Nariv. As Mesdoram realizes where Nariv transported them, he sighs very heavily and adorns an annoyed look on his face – if Mesdoram were an anime character, he would have a thought bubble of ellipses followed by blank face. This was not the first time Nariv brought Mesdoram back to Qu’isto, and every time she has done so has been a waste of time for Mesdoram. In an attempt to end this charade early, the drow takes a vicious swing at Nariv in attempt to break her concentration – sadly for Mesdoram, Nariv effortlessly grabs his assault without even looking his direction. Mesdoram was not expecting this evasion from his Nariv and attempts to save face.

“So, you really brought us here, Nariv?" The overzealous drow inquiries as he struggles furiously to break free. "We are here again to observe the same pathetic ploy? And you've brought our physical bodies this time?" Without warning, Nariv clutches tighter into Mesdoram’s wrist- squeezing and shooting an unusual pain into the drow’s arm. Pain? Mesdoram has never felt physical pain before in Nariv’s illusions – this anguish feels very real and causes Mesdoram to drop to his knees due to the unexpected discomfort. This drow starts to think his peredictiment is more perilous than Mesdoram previously perceived.

Seeing Mesdoram squirm puts a satisfied smile on Nariv’s face; with much to show her master, she flings the drow down like a ragdoll to further apply dominance over Mesdoram. “Of course we are here, Mesdoram. Where would the fun in being apparitions like the other times?” She says as Mesdoram awkwardly picks himself back off the ground. Seeing her master struggle solidifies Nariv’s content countenance. “But as you will notice, this experience will not be pleasant… even your twisted nature will not enjoy what is to come.” Ignoring Mesdoram for a moment, Nariv turns to view the town of Qu’isto completely. “It seems so strange that you have beginnings in such a place… I, too, lived in such an town… with a family of my own like many of the inhabitants of Qu’isto…” Nariv’s tone tediously transforms back into her more docile nature many have come to recognized. “He was my everything, you know? My handsome Kieran…” The sweet demeanor of Nariv has returned as she reminisces about her late husband – this attitude does not last long as she remembers Kieran’s death. “Then you had to come along… drag me down to your level and get me to do things that…” As she pauses, she can hear footsteps fading away into the distant and swiftly turns to see Mesdoram walking away. “Where are you going!?!?!” Nariv angrily asks.

After a few embarrassing rubs to his injuries, Mesdoram had started walking away from Nariv during her monolog – not having an iota of sympathy for her husband's demise. Mesdoram has heard this tragic tale several times before and will not be put through an emotional ringer. Offering some parting shots of his own, Mesdoram yells loudly. “Your husband and his friends got what they deserved. How you choose to recall your biased recollections is on you, not me, Nariv." Pausing his steps for a second, Mesdoram turns to Nariv and begins taunting her harshly. “I haven’t got all day, you worthless slave. You are keeping me alive for reasons that I don’t think you fully comprehend. You know every death since Kieran is on your hands, NOT MINE!!” Mesdoram in his defiance begins walking towards Nariv, having quite enough of being sent into another dream sequence. “ So why don’t you going ahead and show me what it is you need to, and let me get back to …” The Drow is about 20 feet from Nariv before a bolsterious voice booms over the scenery – one of Nariv’s.

“BACK TO WHAT!?!?”

The intimating voice produces loud, powerful soundwaves that forces Mesdoram to cover his ears and slams the drow down to his knees. Mesdoram is closing his eyes tightly as he squirms back and forth as Nariv’s aggressive declaration affects his equilibrium. The thunderous voice continues.

“YOU HAVE NO HOME!! YOU HAVE NO ONE TO COME HOME TO!? YOUR FAMILY IS DEAD AND GONE! MOST BY YOUR HAND!!” Nariv strides furiously to the cowering Mesdoram. “THE BLOOD IS ON YOUR HANDS, MESDORAM!” The ground below Mesdoram begins to quake ferociously, rocking the drow back and forth from the terrestrial assault – Nariv gets closer. “YOU FORGET YOU ARE ONLY ALIVE TO SUFFER!! YOU FORGET YOUR ONLY ALIVE BECAUSE OF ME… YOU FILTHY DARK ELF!!” Nariv now kneels besides Mesdoram to whisper into his good ear that she did not cut during Mesdoram’s Play. “You forget yourself… Hawkeye.”

At the mention of his true name, Mesdoram opens his eyes to see where he is now: Nariv has teleported them to the riverbank nearest the town – Hometown of the of Qu’isto brothers: Vexar... and Hawkeye?

'Mesdoram' begins crawling closer to the crystal-clear river to see reveal his reflection – his true reflection. As he looks into the rich river, the dark drow no longer sees his ebony skin nor his snowy white locks: in this moment, the mirror image of an elf looks up back at himself revealing long golden blonde hair, blue eyes, and a fairly pale complexion has replaced his jet black skintone. Nariv has transformed Mesdoram back into his orginal body: the body of the Elven Warrior named Hawkye. In a state of surprise, 'Mesdoram' backs away from his own reflection and collapses his form in the soft sand of the bank. Starring up into the sky, 'Mesdoram' calls out to Nariv. “Why are we doing this again?”

Nariv giggles and skips over to the newly transformed elven man; peering down to come into 'Mesdoram’s view, she explains. “Silly Mes… I mean Hawkeye… cause your suffering in this world and the next must be elaborate and enjoyable for me. For you see…” She pauses to point across the river to some children playing a game with one another, to which Adult Hawkeye (transformed Mesdoram) sits up to see a nostalgic sight. “… I thought you'd might want to see this…” Nariv teasingly says.

A small voice breaks the tension. “Hey Hawkeye!” One of the children shouts to another child. “We got another orc coming from the southern wall! Quick! Get yourself out of here!”

Adult Hawkeye turns toward the young but very familiar voice of Vexar! The 2 elven brothers are playing their favorite game together - pretend war. Both of the small children, not being more than 10 years of age, have constructed an improvised fort and fence perimeter protecting each other from all imaginary orcs. The child deemed ‘Hawkeye’ looks over to his brother, back to the southern wall, and back to his brother once more. “No, Vexar! I will not leave you here to die by yourself!” The two brother’s wild imagination flows fluidly between differrent scenarios; from them overcoming the ambush of renegade orc attacks, dodging catapulted stone missiles the size of trees, and barely evading enemy arrows being rained over their fort. The two brother fight tooth and nail through each obstacle with grit and determination – until they are overrun and surrounded by 1000 enemy orcs. Vexar and Hawkeye stand back-to-back with their ‘swords’ in hand (which are actually just 2 sticks Vexar found before they started playing).

With a reassuring pat on his shoulder from his brother, Hawkeye tells Vexar, “Don’t worry, brother. I’ll take the 500 here, and you take the 500 in front of you.” To which Vexar quickly replies. “Screw your charity! I’ll take on 501!” With a confident grin on each of the Qu’isto brothers, they charge at their certain deaths with grace and silliness; they are quickly defeated as they react to getting pelted with a thousand arrows til both collapse on the grass. Hawkeye and Vexar make their best ‘I’m dead’ face at each other before exploding into laughter as only 2 brothers would. It was an epic battle, and the two boys fought valiantly; Hawkeye gets up first and helps Vexar to his feet. Both boys dust themselves off, embrace one another briefly, and run back to their house nearby. It is at this moment Adult Hawkeye simply shakes his head, trying to decipher if this is memory or illusion. Nariv looks perplexed at Hawkeye’s reaction and inquiries. “To what is this reaction for? I figured you would love a brotherly reunion with Vexar. Surely you must miss him since…”

Adult Hawkeye stands up abruptly and pushes Nariv strongly out of his way, again attempting to leave this illusion. “I will not be subjected to this trickery any longer.” The shove catches Nariv off guard for a moment, but ultimately she allows this tantrum from Adult Hawkeye. The elven man brandishes one of his daggers from his waist and positions the blade to stab himself in the heart.. Without anymore delay, Adult Hawkeye closes his eyes and slams the blade toward his chest expecting immediate escape… though he feels nothing – no pain, no relief, a very different experience from earlier… He peeks out with his left eye and groans… wondering what fresh hell awaits him now as he hears the satisfying laugh from Nariv in his good ear. Looking down at his hands, Hawkeye realizes he is back to his old Mesdoram self: his skin is back to his drow-like complexion; the drow grabs for his hair to see white strands once more to further confirm his transformation back into himself. With an annoyed look, he turns to Nariv. “Well, at least I’m me again. I had forgotten that memory of me and my brother. Is that really the best you have to offer?” Mesdoram shrugs at Nariv, conveying boredom. “As lovely as this evening has been, I must be off to…”

Without warning, Nariv vigorously shouts an incantation and lets loose an archaic blast of energy that sends Mesdoram flying into the next illusion – transporting through another void, the last words Mesdoram hears is Nariv’s fading voice saying. “Fool, your torment is just beginning.”

Chapter 3: Nariv and Hawkeye meet; the birth of Mesdoram

Colliding against a tree, Mesdoram finds himself near the roots with his face buried in a liquid… a dark red puddle of blood which is now saturating his white locks of hair. As he wipes the foreign blood off his face, Mesdoram finds himself in the middle of a gruesome scene: 4 elven men that have been crushed by dislodged earth and impaled with tree roots, with another man elven laying unconscious and unscathed, and a grieving elvish woman kneeling over the unconscious elf facing away Mesdoram. The sky is a darken, but is lit by an artificial red, blue, and purple mosaic combination like when the sunsets in the evening time.

The drow soaks in the grim atmosphere and knows this illusion well – rather, this memory well. This is the day Nariv discovers her dead husband Kieran and his band of ambushing scoundrels with Hawkeye being the only one uninjured. In a fit of terrestrial rage, Hawkeye slaughtered these elves who followed him and later would succumb to his own exhaustion from the encounter. Though Hawkeye and Nariv never once had a conversation with one another before, this event and the vexing curse Nariv inflicts upon him with would be the catalyst for Mesdoram’s and Nariv’s entire relationship.

As Mesdoram sees Nariv crying over the body of Hawkeye, he gives an intriguing look over her way to find this confusing: if this truly were a memory, would she not be cradling the lifeless body of her Kieran, and not the unconscious man who ultimately ended the life of these 4 men? With that thought, he methodically studies his own work and can’t help but start laughing out loud – the cries of Nariv begin to intensify. “Ah.. I see now! You had an infatuation with me even back then! Ha! Your own subconscious even knows who the better man here is.” Feeling a bit overconfident and feeling he has regained the reins of this power struggle, Mesdoram shakes his head and smirks. “If you wanted to be with the stronger person, all you had to do is ask.” None of Mesdoram’s words seem to impact Nariv… she simply weeps below Hawkeye’s motionless body.

Her lack of a reaction irritates Mesdoram and doubles down on his sarcastic assault. “Did you know how pathetic these men were? I, returning home from the battle for my life… for my brother’s life… for my love…” Unexpectedly, Mesdoram briefly remembers his life with Atropos before her affliction… his trials with Hemlock… his clansmen Demi and Movdon… all the memories he had with Vexar as Hawkeye… his former life floods back into his conscious for a second… This recollection of memories makes Mesdoram even more upset. “Protecting what was dear to me only to run across these four thieving men looking to end me?! You want to know how much of a coward your husband was?” Mesdoram, feeling a bit more confident, laughs a bit before forming these words. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? Oh wait… that’s right… I ripped him apart with the roots of this tree!! He scattered all over, so his head must be around here somewhere. Feel free to seek it out when you’re done blubbering.”

Again, the elven woman is not affected by Mesdoram’s cruel wording. Nariv, to the surprise of Mesdoram, repositions herself to sit next to Hawkeye and collapses over his form in anguish: her hands placed upon his chest as a head rest, burying her face into the makeshift pillow, and continuing to weep sorrowfully over the man who killed her Kieran. Nariv body slightly rises and falls in a consistent fashion, confirming the body of Hawkeye is still breathing just fine. If an unsuspected passerby were to stroll into this scene, one would truly believe that Nariv is praying for Hawkeye’s well-being and, not even so suddenly, appear the two were in love? None of this makes any sense to Mesdoram, which sends him to an insane rampage.

With very little sympathy left for the grieving Nariv, Mesdoram attempts reclaim the upper hand. Walking with a terrible purpose, the drow makes his way to one of the fallen elves. Without warning, he begins violently stomping on the corpse’s neck over and over again – in this dream sequence, Mesdoram is fully equipped in regular battle attire and has his spiked blood-stained battle bottles on. With every furious stamp, bones and flesh are crushed under the drow’s foot – until finally, the head of this elf is detached from the body. Nariv doesn’t not look up, only again cries over Hawkeye’s body.

“I forget, slave! Which one was your husband again!?” With a heavy exclamation mark, Mesdoram lines up a kick and punts the severed head in a direct trajectory to Nariv; the head hits Nariv on the side of her left leg that also unintentionally projects Hawkeye from this missile. Upon impact, Mesdoram surely would have expected even a courtesy glance from Nariv – still, nothing from the grieving woman. Mesdoram continues his mocking. “Was it that fool whose head lays next to you!”

Not satisfied, Mesdoram makes haste to another lifeless body and commands the roots impaled in the elf to tear the body apart – obeying ever faithfully, the second elf is ripped gruesomely into five separate sections and flung wildly at Nariv – a cascading sea of blood, sinew, organs, and body parts pour all over Nariv’s form and the unconscious elf. Again, Nariv does not react but cries louder.

Fueled by unadulterated fury, Mesdoram shouts down at the unconscious Hawkeye that Nariv protects. “That man right there is who killed all these men here! HE KILLED your KIERAN!! He is me and I am him! That man is Hawkeye, and…” Mesdoram announces and points to his own form to emphasis his point. “… I am him. You may have turned me into this drow form, but that man and I are the same…” Starting to feel a bit winded, Mesdoram lowers his tone a bit. “You may have transformed me for defending myself against your husband and his stupid friends... but your scheme to make me suffer slowly has done nothing but backfired on you! You turned me from a simple elf who wouldn’t harm anyone without causation into a drow who thirsts for NOTHING but carnage.” Still, Nariv only weeps over Hawkeye.

Mesdoram strides confidently over now, wanting to reinforce himself back in control. The drow extends a lone finger to his former self. “You took my elven nature and confined me into these drow body... and I love it." Feeling really cocky, Mesdoram is now kneels beside Nariv and offers her a series of sarcastic pats on the back. “You’ve made me more deadly and terrifying than you can imagine… losing my compassion and love for everything only focuses me more on my ultimate goal…” With a final nail in the coffin, Mesdoram leans into whisper. “… watching your revenge scheme backfire on you... pathetic slave.”

An unsettling silence fills the bleak murder scene… several minutes seemingly pass as rain begins cascading down, but the droplets do not make a sound in this new silent setting. Water begins mixing with the pooled blood and begins creating collections of diluted crimson rainwater. The hard foundation of clay below them begins to soften the foundation into a weak muddy ground, subtly and slowly sinking Hawkeye’s form down into the earth a few inches.

Finally, Nariv’s weeps begin turning into sporadic laughter… then continuous creepy snickering… then full on maniacal screeching. This serious of cackles sends an uneasy feeling through Mesdoram’s frame. She pushes off Hawkeye’s chest to face the knelt Mesdoram. “My sweet… sweet Mesdoram…” Nariv’s words breaks her series of joker laughter. Keeping her gaze solid on Mesdoram, she uses her right hand and places it on Hawkeye’s head; staring intensely into Mesdoram’s eyes, she smooshes Hawkeye’s head into the now muddy foundation caused by the rain. Only strains of Hawkeye’s blonde strains remain visible. “You were so innocent back then… before you killed my husband.” At the moment Nariv speaks of her fallen husband, she completely submerges Hawkeye’s head into the sunken earth and vigorously pulls it back out – almost like a makeshift baptism of sorts. Nariv yanks and tosses Hawkeye aside with his face completely covered in the mud. An enraged Nariv continues her counterattack.

“You killed my Kieran and mangled his body beyond my healing ability! I ran in the direction of a great calamity, sounding like an earthquake and fearing the worst of a nature disaster. But what do I find!?” Without warning, Nariv propels herself straight into the air roughly 20 feet – hovering above the sence, the gales from her instantaneous voyage pushes Mesdoram onto his backside and rolls Hawkeye on his side the opposite direction. Nariv’s voice grows in volume and power. “It was you!” The rain falls triples and is accompanied by frequent bolts of lighting streaking furiously across the sky; like before, Mesdoram is forced to close his eyes and ears to shield himself from Nariv’s attacks.

“You worthless little man! Running away from his responsibilities and taking it out on my Kieran… my sweet… Kieran…” The sudden surge of anger subsides from Nariv and she rapidly descends to ground level again… the abrupt lightning storm has quelled and the rain no longer pours… the ambiance swiftly returns to silent and a weeping Nariv. Mesdoram peeks from his fetal position to see if the worst is over; seeing a sunken Nariv gives him a momentary chance to end this nightmare once and for all. Gathering to his feet and wiping off the excess mud and blood from his attire eyes, Mesdoram pulls out his earthly elemental blade sheathed from its scabbard. Nariv notices this, and offers so more words between the sobs.

“When I saw you… lying lifeless… I felt your pain… your struggles... your heart...” Nariv babbles inbetween weeps as Mesdoram slowly starts his approach. “I wanted to hate you and make you suffer… but your energy… your elven life…” Mesdoram is 20 feet away with both his hands gripped on his favorite blade given to him by Atropos. “I saw Kieran in you… I saw your love for your woman and brother…” Mesdoram now stands above the seemingly defeated Nariv and begins to raise his weapon to deliver a lethal swing– one that surely would break this illusion forever. “And that’s why…”

WHOOOSH!!!

Mesdoram performs a certain killing blow to what would have been where Nariv’s neck would have been, possessing enough power to take the elven woman’s head clean off in a single swing. Instead, Mesdoram’s blade swings at nothing, the momentum of his attack bringing him to his knees. Upon gathering his bearings, he realizes an unnerving reality: Nariv was gone, the fallen elves are gone, no tree, no mud or rain – just a black empty void filled with Mesdoram… and the body of Hawkeye still facing away from him. A sharp sinister tone echoes in this to new realm of nothingness – Nariv’s voice.

“… That’s why I made you kill your brother… Vexar…”

Chapter 4: The end of Mesdoram?

A feeling of absolute horror envelopes Mesdoram’s miniature frame – a terror he had not ever experienced in his life as a drow. Drow’s are fearless, show no emotion other than defiance and cruelty, and certainly do not display any weakness without being killed on a moment’s notice. Mesdoram is unrecognizable from a demeanor standpoint; no… a frighten drow now shivers with uncertainty. “No… no this can’t be true.” He thinks to himself and then shouts into the nothingness.

“Nice try, Nariv! Vexar is not dead, nor would I kill him even if you somehow tricked me.” Though, Mesdoram’s tone does not convey any confidence like his normal self. This fake bravado is an attempt to fortify his broken ego and spirits, but nevertheless fails terribly to boost any morale for the drow. Instead, Mesdoram’s words are filled with uncertainty… and a bone chilling realization overcomes him. “Did… did I kill Vexar?” He thinks to himself.

Suddenly, a few memories come flooding back including Mesdoram’s first appearance back to Hollow – he remembers seeing his brother fighting the one named Shishi in the Tournament of Winters… he remembers sees his brother handle this blue devil handedly. Mesdoram remembers the very tense but productive talk with his brother in the Trist’oth Tavern where Vexar slaughter a disrespectful beer runner. They embraced like old friends and further finished their plans for SIN’s Resurgence! “No… this is another trick by Nariv. I would never kill my brother!! I remember… I remember…”

Mesdoram then recalls a terrible dream he had many nights ago involving him, Vexar, and Nariv. Nariv and Mesdoram were making their final preparations for the festival of Sin – there sits Nariv and Mesdoram finishing the renovations. Vexar comes from the south end of the Valkrin’s slave market to protest his brother’s methodology. “Surely brother, we can cull the herd without all this death! I have brought fear to this realm without having to unsheathe my blade! Consider your ways, Mesdoram.” A faint whisper entered Mesdoram’s subconscious as he stares at his brother… he can’t quite make out the wording yet, but he instinctually takes out his twin-elemental dirks and begins charging Vexar. Without much resistance, Mesodram plunges his daggers into Vexar’s stomach causing instant death. Vexar slumps over his brother lifelessly, and Mesdoram hears the voice again but much clearer… “Kill Vexar.” Mesdoram then quickly looks over to an arrogant looking Nariv mouthing the words he fear. “KILL VEXAR!!”

At the moment, Mesdoram snaps out of his incepted dreamlike state and returns to the empty void where it’s still him and Hawkeye’s lifeless body. Mesdoram begins panicking. “No... no it can’t be. That was a dream! My brother is not dead!” Another realization occurs – Vexar was not present during the Rise of Sin play! Where was he?! Mesdoram quickly tries to recall his last conversation with Vexar - he cannot remember! To this date, Mesdoram has never displayed this much uncertainty to anyone, of all people especially not Nariv. Nariv cannot be seen, but she smiles gleefully at Mesdoram’s sudden realization.

“Oh my goodness, Mesdoram! Is that actual fear I sense in you!” Her voice echoes all throughout the void follow by an evil laugh. “And what were you saying earlier? My Kieran was a coward?” A sudden volume changes with Nariv booming her next words. “YOU ARE THE COWARD!!” The vibrations from Nariv’s voice shoots Mesdoram towards Hawkeye’s collapsed body – Mesdoram trips over the body and falls flat on his backside again.

Nariv watches Mesdoram squirm and shouts even louder to torture him further. “YOU PATHETIC MAN! JUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE! YOU DIED A LONG TIME AGO… YOU ARE NOTHING BUT THE HUSK OF A MURDERER WHO COULDN’T PROTECT YOUR LOVE, YOUR CLANSMEN, AND EVEN YOURSELF!!!” Each vernacular spoken pushes the motionless body of Hawkeye closer to Mesdoram – the drow starting to bleed from his eyes, nose, and ears from the sheer volume of Nariv’s voice - capillaries and miniature veins start exploding inside his face. “How poetic… for you to die next to your former self – will this be your end, Mesdoram?!”

Mesdoram screams into void feeling absoulte agony, excruciating pain, and… and… genuine fear... And… tears... tears of saddness streaming in between the trails of blood... An overwhelming anxiety takes hold of the frightened man, writhing in his emotions and physical trauma’s caused in the latest Nariv attack. Mesdoram is finally broken and screams out for his loved ones. “ATROPOS!! I’m Sorry!! Movdon… Demi!!! I’m sorry my friends! Vexar… VEXAR!!!!!” Mesdoram clutches his eyes and clenches them tightly as to physically claw the memories of that night out… “No, I didn’t kill you! That was a dream!!! VEXAR!!! HELP ME BROTHER!!!” Shaken to his core, the emotional charge drow furiously swings his arms outwards and cries out for help… furious shouts echo throughout the empty void, the drow desperate for anyone to save him... but no one will come. Exhausted, Mesdoram cannot physically do anything anymore and has lost all his fighting spirit… his will to go on.. completely drained… begging for death… but death would take its sweet time…

A moment passes from the pitiful wailing of Mesdoram and the onslaught of Nariv… seemingly a whole hour passes before Mesdoram feels something very comforting… A single hand caresses the drow’s right cheek in a very loving manner and mixes in a couple soothing strokes through the man’s snowy white hair. A very familiar gesture that has felt very foreign to Mes for a long time… years, maybe even decades, but he still remembers whose fingers those are. “… Atropos… I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” After this declaration, Mesdoram no longer feels the touch of his former love… he cautiously opens his eyes back to the void to see not Atropos, but Nariv. Nariv’s gentle form has returned as she kneels over her master, no signs of malice anywhere in her demeanor, and a kind reassuring smile attempting to shine comfort back into Mesdoram’s body.

Mesodram pathetically shakes his head back and forth. “Nariv… please stop this…” Mesdoram begs, possible for the first time in his life. Tears well up in his gray eyes before closing his eyes to push the water away. “… just kill me please… please…” With that said, Mesdoram opens his eyes again to see Nariv gone again… then peeks to his left at where Hawkeye’s body still lays motionless. Hawkeye’s face mirror Mesdoram’s own as he literally looks at a self-reflection of his former life. Realizing his death is not coming this second, Mesdoram turns over to his right… and finds a very horrific site.

Laying next to him on his right side is the corpse of Vexar, decaying and bleeding from the stomach where Mesdoram had stabbed him in the ‘dream.’ Vexar’s body screams, “I’m dead because of you, brother!” Instinctually, Mesdoram shoots up and backs away from his brother’s cadaver – only to be stopped by another body. The drow turns again to find the rotten corpse of Atropos who shouts at him. “You deserve every bit of this suffering!” Panicking, Mesdoram stands up to reveal Nariv’s twisted grand finale: surrounding him not just the reanimated bodies of Vexar and Atropos, but Demi, Movdon, Hemlock, Kieran, the 3 other fallen elves, the 2 slaves from Mesdoram’s play, and all of the people unfortunate enough to cross paths with Mesdoram. The room of 50 plus corpses begin circling and chanting in unison – “Death won’t come… Death won’t come… Death won’t come.” The dead bodies chant over the sadistic cackling of Nariv; the deafening mantras paralysis Mesdoram motionless as the horde get closer and closer… all the drow can do is crouch and shield his eyes and ears again to protect himself from the inevitable.

Suddenly… nothing. No sound, no Nariv, no bodies… nothing. The horde has dissipated into nothingness… Mesdoram one last time bravely opens his eyes to confirm why the noise has stopped – indeed, as quickly as the horrific manifestations appeared, they disappeared just as fast. Not sure how much more his heart can take, Mesdoram turns and attempts to run away into the infinite darkness… his path is immediately blocked by one last animated body – Hawkeye: standing in his elvish attire, blonde hair draped down over his shoulders, and the familiar earthly brand used by both Mesdoram and Hawkeye respectfully. Mesdoram bumps into Hawkeye before realizing again his nightmare is not over.

The animated body of Hawkeye immediately stabs Mesdoram through the heart with their earthly elemental blade… Mesdoram feels everything and grabs Hawkeye to hold himself up. A guttural panic courses through the tiny drow’s veins as every muscle in his body contracts immediately. Mesdoram’s nervous system begins to go haywire as the very life begins fleeing from his body… Experiencing pure shock, Mesdoram looks up at his former self in disbelief – Hawkeye stands emotionless to the mortal stabbing… As Mesdoram’s brain scrambles to keep its body alive, Mesdoram looks to his left… and feels two hands lovingly takes hold of his cheeks – these hands belonging to Nariv…

“My sweet Mesdoram…” The words from Nariv seep into Mesdoram’s good ear as he feels the calming wave of death beginning to set in. “… you can only die when I say you can…” Says Nariv… then grins a scary but docile smile to the Mesdoram who is spasticly flailing in pain... but the strength is fleeing from him quickly as the sword from Hawkeye is the only thing propping him upright at this moment – the grip from the drows hands finally give way to dangle lifelessly to his side and fully accepts his fate as a chilling sensation begins to take hold of Mesdoram. Nariv, seeing the end is almost here, kisses Mesdoram’s forehead affectionately and guides her mouth to the drow’s good ear… “Wake up, my dear…”

Chapter Five: Just a dream… right?

Nariv is in a panic trying to wake up Mesdoram from his slumber. She had not been back in Mesdoram's house long before she had see Mesdoram struggling to breathe. Attempting to wake up her master, Nariv shakes harder this time to get Mesdoram to open his eyes – still no response from the drow. "Wake up Master!! Mesdoram!! Wake up!" Thinking quickly on her feet, Nariv grabs an unopen bottle of whiskey and dumps a large portion of the bottle directly on Mesdoram’s face.

Mesdoram shoots right up and yells in shock while simultaneously grabbing Nariv by the neck in self-defense. “Who do you think you are!?” Mesdoram shouts angriliy, not knowing who has awaken him – he’s genuinely frightened and ready to throw down with whoever this is. Nariv clamps down on her master’s grip, still able to speak sporadically. “Master.. you were dream… dreaming again… please… let…”

Mesdoram looks around quickly and realizes he is back at home in the Underdark, surround by his crudely made blue tarp in his tiny home in the Trist’oth Alley… all his belongings being present. The drow looks back to Nariv and releases her; she gathers herself and stands up at attention. “I’m sorry master… but you were dreaming again… drenched in sweat and convulsing… ohhh…” Mesdoram gripped her neck tighter than anticipated and she has to take a couple heavy breaths.

Mesdoram also collects himself from the hellish sleep he just experienced, brushing off sweat and whiskey form his face, and takes some deep breaths of his own. The drow buries his head in his hands and speaks through his fingers. Though, Nariv can’t make out what Mesdoram said through the muffled barrier. “I’m… I’m sorry?” Nariv inquires for clarification.

“Don’t… don’t worry about it… feel free to sleep here if you need. We have much to do in the morning…” Mesdoram reiterates more clearly… “But come back in later. I need a few minutes to collect myself.” Upon hearing her master’s command, Nariv graciously nods and steps outside as ordered.

With Nariv out of sight, Mesdoram grabs through his ‘night stand' (a 6-inch-high box) for his hand-held mirror gifted to him many, many decades ago. Holding up the mirror to himself, he confirms that he is indeed himself: dark complexion, snowy white hair, and his silvery eyes… but… a small flicker? For a brief moment, Mesdoram’s left eye flashes a couple of times before turning his elvish blue. Seeing this does not make Mesdoram angry or threaten to burn down the Underdark… instead, a lone tear falls from this eyes before turning back into its normally silvery eye.

“Was this all just a dream?” He wonders to himself… “Was any of that and the other experiences real?” “Who else is going to die as a result of me…” "... When... when am I going to die?" Mesdoram conflicts with himself over what he just experienced and wipes the uncharacteristic drow tear away from his face. Without another thought of his brother and his dreams, Mesdoram curls back unto the floor into his preferred sleeping position and reaches for the bottle of whiskey Nariv used earlier. With a couple swigs of whiskey to dull the internal torment of this drow, Mesdoram attempts to get some sleep without another conflict.

Meanwhile, outside of Mesdoram’s home, stands Nariv. Smiling quite contently to herself at a job well done. Finishing up the last bits of her cigarette, she throws it in the trash can of the Trist’oth Tavern’s back alley, and speaks into the night air…

“Sweet dreams, love…”