"You!" A red robed wizard glared coldly at the black skinned elf who seemed to manifest from nothingness. But a fiendish grin was painting itself upon his pale, bearded face. He chuckled inwardly, calculating the situation. His long blonde beard gave an ethereal quality to his otherwise corpselike appearance. He looked like he could have been a priest or a demon. But he was a mage. "The guards said that Marcovius slew his assailant before he died. But it looks like they never suspected who his true assailant was."

"Not for a moment." The drow smiled with pride. And that was important. Pride was an important emotion to the typical drow, as it was one of the closest things to genuine happiness and satisfaction that they could feel. And this was one of those typical drow. Which is to say that he was no exception to the status quo of the drow of the underdark. No renegade who secretly sought to rise above the wickedness of his people. No convert to some diety other than Lolth. No lie of honor or savage nobility or dreaming of the possibility of 'redemption' marred his darkened outlook upon life. No. This creature stayed ever to the shadows, refusing to allow the horrifying light of the surface world to obscure his path to power.

His red eyes gleamed in the candlelight of the wizard's keep. They seemed to be made of red hot ore, as if his mind were a blade forged in demoniacal fires by some monstrous blacksmith of the Abyss. And soon those devilish eyes noticed the slight movements that the wizard was making with his hands. His face contorted in aggression as he noticed this for clearly a spell was being cast.

Realizing his imminent betrayal, the drow pulled his daggers and raised them to attack with intimidating speed.

But the mage was already bringing his hands forth, and before the black skinned elf could stab them down into this treacherous client's flesh, they unleashed a light that froze the drow, and then encased his form before ultimately disappearing with him. The wizard laughed heartily as the being was teleported as far away as he could be sent.

"Ha ha!" The arcane one celebrated "by the time you return, provided you survive, this place shall be empty and I will be a new man."

...

Meanwhile, in Itari, the dark elf materialized in flashing lights above a forest, where he very nearly stabbed himself as he fell through the branches of leafless trees to land gracelessly in a pile of frost, grass, and humiliation.

"Curse you, Inioch. You will not see the close of another hundred years." He said softly yet indignantly as he sheathed his weapons and got to his feet. He brushed himself off and set about wandering away from the woods. Even within the forested area, however, the winter daylight was blinding. The elf decided that it would be better to carry his daggers in hand as a precaution, and he raised his arm to shield his eyes from the light as he walked out into the cold countryside.

For four and a half blinded and freezing hours, he walked through the winter landscape. The cold wasn't so bad. The underdark cold get very cold outside of cities and settlements. It was the all of the brightness and light that made this trek difficult on him. By the time he saw a settlement ahead he was squinting so much beneath his hood, that he wasn't sure if he had actually seen it. But as he drew closer he realized it was indeed real.

Sheathing his weapons again, he made his way to the guard.

"Where am I?" He inquired quite directly "And how far am I from the city of Wyzim?"

The guard realized that this elf had come to be lost, and felt that most exploitable of surfacer's common emotions; pity.

"This is the village of Reisui, in Itari. As for Wyzim, I have never heard of such a place. If you seek wisdom of other lands, you might see Nizhar in his magic shop. But [i]you[/i] might also wish to see the Bloodmoon sisters in the tavern first. Vivian and Cassandra are dark elves and residents of the town."

Irritated, the newcomer nodded his thanks to the guard and entered the village. The place was no sprawling metropolis, that was for sure. But it was an improvement from the bright landscape that he had spent all the past few hours trying to navigate.

And the tavern was even more of an improvement. He entered it in perfect silence. Wether or not he was noticed, it was a point of pride, and possibly more, that he should display his skill before the two drow ladies that he was told were here. Perhaps they too were assassins such as he was. But even if they were not, he knew better than to appear weak before other drow, and especially drow of the stronger sex. And so he continued, soundlessly to the bar and to be seated. Hopefully he would have been discreet enough as to have gone unnoticed.