A gust of wind howled on the Lorindar docks, flipping the pages of a very old tome, as faint beams of moonlight broke through the remnant clouds of a shattered storm. Tathnolu however was not greeted with the sensational smell of a sea breeze but with the smell of an old tome, wet, moldy, and covered in years worth of mushroom spores from his native Underdark...
Tathnolu Rilyn'val, Silver-tongued drow from Olist Orbinn, Wizard of Necromancy, former student of Rufus Coldfinger, Council Member of an Arcane School he shaped with one other... broken and blind. With eyes staring blankly ahead of registering nothing but odd colors floating above where people's heads should be, with slow and paced breaths timing his quill strokes, and with careful thought, Tath slowly poured his mind onto the drow made tome...
I feel, naked in the darkness I weave. I have been devoid of light in my life, but not like this. Flashes of color, strange thoughts fluttering about my head, weakened in an instant by a "too-strong" drink and a battered amulet. In all of the recent events, a strange sensation has developed in me... an odd feeling of mingled excitement, curiosity, and fearful ambition.
Watching Rufus pour the blood filled skull of his enemy into the shattered bloodwell... hearing his claims of Blood witnessing it all... journeying to the greatest source of power I have ever felt... betraying an Undead Lord, cursed to spend eternity in his tomb, ruling dead bodies and moss covered stone...
Tath slowly breaths in pausing for several long moments and fingering the crest of his House... and though it didn't matter he closed his eyes blocking all things from his true sight and envisioned in his mind's eye a game board...
It is a sava game... life is a sava game and I am now rolling the dice... will any god grace me with the luck of spiders?
