Darkness. A darkness that was solid and complete, one that swallowed anyone that went into it if they were unprepared. This darkness was not the darkness of the night, it was the darkness of a place that had never known the light. A darkness where anything that made light was an intruder, one that would be swiftly dealt with. The monsters that thrived in this place would flock to anyone that carried a light, devoiring him before he even knew he was dead. Through this darkness, Ahren Elessedil stalked, a mere shadow throw amongst the darkness. His footsteps made no sound, and he did not need a torch to light his path. Hearing informed him of any creatures nearby, and he used the wind around him to probe the area in front of him as a blind man would use a stick to test the ground. His bow was held in his hands, an arrow set upon it, ready to be pulled back and fired at a moments notice. Once the shot was off, it was guarenteed to hit, the air would not allow him to fail.

Keeping his wings folded flat against his back, Ahren squeezed through a narrow opening and swiftly sent out winds, testing the area, forming a mental picture of the cavern he had entered. Once he had the first few yards picture, he began moving, impatient to continue on. However, after a few steps, he stopped, turning his head from side to side. There was a problem with what the wind was bringing back to him. Something was moving. Without bothering to question what it was, Ahren drew back his bow and fired, accompanying the arrow with a bolt of lightning. The lightning roared, echoing around the cavern as whatever he had fired upon gave a squeel of pain. Checking to make sure the creature was dead before he tried to pass it, Ahren left swiftly. That thunder would alert every creature within a mile. He needed to be far away before he had some more visitors.

Running on silent feet, Ahren sent the winds out far in front of him, searching for a safe path away from the cavern. With a speed born out of desperation he ran, forcing himself to keep going. Despite the fact that he wasn't afraid of the monsters that dwelt in the underdark, he wasn't foolishly going to challange anyone that heard the thunder. If several came, he would be hard pressed to defend himself. Finally, after a time, he stopped. It was something that annoyed him, the fact that there was nothing to mark the passage of time. Still, he slept when he was tired and ate when he was hungry. It wasn't a bad way to live all in all. Besides, he couldn't bear being on the surface, where the fresh, moving air constantly reminding him of her. She had left, and nothing could bring her back. He had accepted that fact, but that didn't mean he liked it. With a final glance behind him, Ahren turned and continued running along the tunnels, traveling, constantly traveling.

ooc: Please allow Phedre the first post, thank you.

Phedre awoke damp and and seemingly blind. She rested on the floor of a cavern so dark that even her demon self was blinded. Careful to make, little or no noise, she rose, picking up her glaive from the floor in one fluid motion. Phedre's heart was struggling to beat, it seemed as though the darkness held a definate weight to it... or maybe she was secretly claustrophbic without ever knowing. That would be the end of her assassin days. She shook her head, taking deep inhales to try and fill her lungs. The air was sticky and thick to breathe... it was definatly not a comforting place.

Phedre remained motionless as she tried to remember what got her here... wherever here was. She closed her eyes to concentrate, though there was little visual distraction to pull her from her thoughts anyway. Finally she caught a strand of memory. There was a man, a theif. He had stuffed his pockets with gold and ran. She had felt the urge to make him pay. There was a cloudly patch in her mind next, running, but not seeing where. The theif lit a torch, it was blinding against the thick darkness. Within seconds a roar escaped the shadows and the light was swallowed... along with the theif, "and his gold," thought Phedre silently. The memory continued. She had pulled out her glaive. But the creature seemed comfortable with only the theif. It swept behind her quickly, sensing at least some kind of threat. Phedre had spun to face the creature when she felt something raw and boney grip her forearm, force it back with the glaive still in hand, and slice a thin cut across her lower back.

She remembered now. Touching her back she found thick oozing bloodclots and a sliced section of her clothing. Her lower body was damp, not from the cavern, but from the blood. She was surprised no creature came to feast on the weak. She moved foreward to run her finger over the glaive's blade, to test it's edge, when another roar errupted through the cave. Simular, but not the same as the other one, Phedre still jumped into action. Her ears picked up every sound. Her skin seemed sensitive to everything around her. Suddenly she felt a whisper of wind. It must be passing. She rammed out the butt of her glaive staff, catching something running past her. Not wanting to risk an escape or another false thought of safety, she tried to slice around the ground for the fallen... thing, hoping to kill it before it counter attacked.

Ahren reacted even as he was falling. Turning the fall into a forward roll, he came back up on his feet. Dropping his bow, he spun around, ripping his sword from it's sheath as he finished turning. Expecting the sound of his sword cutting through some animal hide, he was extremely surprised and perplexed when he heard the steady ring of metal on metal. With a short cry, Ahren hopped back a step, setting his legs as he tried to figure out what was going on. None of the monsters that roamed these caverns could use a sword or any other blade for that matter. Which meant it was a person of some kind. Panicing slightly, he realized that it was most likely a drow elf, they were one of the few sentient creatures that would be down in the Underdark. With a low oath, Ahren spun the air around him, using it as a shield against any poison darts the drow might fire. If it was a drow, then he was in just about the worst amount of trouble possible. They could see in the darkness, and he was an elf, that fact alone marked him as a target to be killed instantly.

Crouching down slightly, Ahren charged forward, swinging his sword in both hands. The blade rose diagonally from the left to the right, swung with as much force as Ahren could safely put behind it. Caution would be extremely appropriate at this time. The drow would undoubtedly be an excellent swordsman, turning the first error Ahren made into his last. Despite the fact that Ahren was fighting with all that he had, death would be a release for him. He was not going to avidly seek death, but when it arrived he would welcome it with open arms.

Slightly caught off gaurd that she didn't hear the thud of a large creature hitting the rock floor, Phedre's blindness seemed to overwhelm her. Her ears burned with the effort to hear even the heartbeat of something near. There! A ruffle of clothing. The creature was dressed... a man probably. Drow? They seemed to be the only culture of thrive in a place as desolate as this. There was a small clatter of wood hitting stone and the sweep of a blade being drawn. Phedre readied her glaive and began weaving an intricate pattern infront of her in hopes to defend herself from an oncoming attack. There was a swing and numbness filled her right arm as she felt the calang of the sword reccoshaying off her glaive blade. Phedre stifled a curse as her form stumbled a moment. She could feel wettness trickle down her back, down her spine. She was bleeding again. She wasn't in a good position to fight back.

Before she could gather herself up again she felt a wave of wind rush past her and the slice of blade through the air. She couldn't get her glaive up quick enough. The man's sword dug across her right shoulder, ceasing to cut after 4 inches of flesh tore. She managed to knock the blade from her body and stumble backward to try and recover. She felt the burn of a fresh wound and the familiar trickle of blood down her front. Another step backward and she felt something hard against her back. Freezing at the thought of being cornered, she heard a heartbeat, and a low growl. Slowly she realized with was no wall she was against, but the side of a giant beast. Jumping out of the way, just missing it's lunging bite, Phedre stumbled to the floor, pulling her body far away from the creature, trying to remain as silent as possible.

The sound of a creature growling was easily heard by his keen ears, it was a sound he didn't relish. A quick hop-step backwards to put some distance between himself and the source of the growling, and Ahren divided his attention between his opponent and the beast that had intruded upon their fight. With a swift spell, Ahren unleashed a killing enervation bolt in the direction of the growl, hoping to stop the creature before it could decide that he would be a food source. With out waiting to see if the bolt killed it, Ahren took a leap forward and swung his sword high overhead, performing an attack he wouldn't think about using against an armed opponent. An attack like that would get him run through against a skilled swordsman. Since the creature wouldn't have a blade, he felt reasonably secure enough to use all of his strength. Ahren wasn't sure if his spell had killed the creature or not, but his sword split the creatures head, so even if his spell hadn't killed it, his sword definately did.

Wrenching his sword from the creature's head, Ahren spun to face the other opponent that he had been fighting. Or at least, where he thought his opponent was. It was difficult to fight in these conditions without any light, and he was already weary from his weeks of travel throughout the Underdark. Sending out the winds in front of him, he soon reached the body of his attacker. Whoever it was was sitting on the ground, not getting up. Taking his time, he used the wind to gather as much info as he could about his opponent. He swiftly realized that his opponent was female, and she was apparently bleeding. After a few moments, he was satisfied that neither of them where in any condition to fight. Maybe it was time to find a way out of this place, with some help. "Who are you?" Ahren's voice was soft in the darkness, a bit hoarse after not using it for several days.

Phedre let out a satisfied sigh when she heard the creature collapse to the ground and the stranger's sword slice it's skull in two halves. She decided to remain sitting, trying to catch her breath and regain strength if he were to attack again. She just assumed it was a he. And then he spoke. His voice was rough and cold, almost demanding. With a groan she used her glaive as a prop to push herself upwards until she stood, slightly slumped, but on her feet none the less. Flicking some loose hair out of her face, she squinted, her gold eyes trying to focus on something in the darkness.

The thought again of the man's question and let a slow, mocking laugh part from her lips. "Who am I?" she said, her voice soft and relaxed, "I think I should ask you the same... as well as what are you... and what are you doing in a death pit like this?"

Clutching the staff of her glaive with both hands she focused on her wounds, sure that they would heal rapidly once treated. Thankfully her wings her retracted, for she would have been too weak to pull them in now, and they would not only get in the way but give away her... newer self. Fighting the urge to approach the man blindly, arms outstretched to try and feel for him, Phedre remained somewhat motionless except for the ragge breathing from her bruised lungs. This wounded thing was getting old fast.

Hearing her answer his question with more questions, Ahren, thought for a second. What had he been doing down here? He had entered the underdark to escape, yet all he had done was go into isolation from the world. Being alone only gave him more time to think and reflect on the very thing that he had wanted to forget. "Very well, since I am the one that started, I will give you my name. I am Ahren Elessedil. As to what I am doing, I was simply taking some time off from the world and it's problems." With his sword still resting in one hand, Ahren took a step forward, his other hand out in front of him. He had heard her stand up with a groan, and her breathing was easily audible, another testament to the fact that she was injured and tired. "I don't care what you are, but we both seem to be in a similar situation. You sound tired and injured from the way you move and breath, and I feel the same way. So unless you want to end up food for some other beast like the one I killed, I think it would be better if we helped each other out of here."

Waiting for an answer, Ahren thought about how they were going to get out. This place was a maze, one that had claimed numerous travelers already. Hopefully he could use the air to guide him towards the surface. Jerking his thoughts back to the here and now, Ahren listened attentively for the smallest sound. If she agreed to help him, then he would use a healing spell to help her, he still might use the spell anyway, but if she agreed then he wouldn't have to argue with himself. After all, she had attacked him, what would stop her from doing so again once she healed him. "Well, what is your answer?"

Phedre let a small laugh escape her lips. His answer seemed so... innocent. She had really no other options, and it wasn't as though she wanted to stay in this pit of hell, not in the least. She remained motionless, leaning on her glaive staff, not wanting to move because she didn't know where to go. "My name is Phedre," she said in a soft voice, 'quite a pleasure to meet you." She let another laugh escape her lips and shook her head with amusement. She mulled over his offer, once again coming to the conclusion that there was really no other choice. With a sigh she trying looking in the general direction of where she thought he was. "Alright, let's go. Maybe they'll be some moonlight yet," she said with a grin, beginning to trudge foreward, her hands extended so she would touch anything before her instead of walk into it.

Phedre, rare as it was, was in a talkative mood. Perhaps it was the loss of blood. "So what are you?" The question was blunt, though not rude or harsh. His name sounded some sort of elvish, but she wasn't going to assume anything, and besides... convorsation is convorsation. She hadn't had pleasent contact with a speaking individual since her last meeting with Ranewan. That seemed like ages ago. Letting out another sigh, Phedre thought of the bed and room waiting for her at the goddess' home. It was her home now too. It was given to her. They even called it hers. Phedre shook the thought out of her head and awaited a reply, continuing to try and feel her way out of the tunnels.