The Reunion, One-Shot

[Azeroth]

Serlon sought the relative coolness of the caves to escape any more travellers along the way. He'd met enough arrogant people in one day, and he decided it was time to let drop his travels and cool his thoughts. As an Elf, he never got over his dislike of caves and enclosed rocky places. His home had always been the in the trees, or at least the plains. Even though he was isolated from his people, and even though his many years as a solitary traveller has taught him to not discriminate against different surroundings, it was a natural preference that guided his thinking.

Leaving his fingertips against the rough walls, Serlon walked deeper into the cave, following the sound of water gently echoing in the air. It was faint, even for his sensitive blind-Elf's ears. However, he was somewhat thankful of his lack of vision, since the darkness made no difference to him, and the added hearing was quite useful.

(Okie, time to meet the drow )

[Maverick]

What's this? Another person at this level? He knew it could not be another drow; they seldom ventured this far. Yet it was strange for a normal surface dweller to venture this far undergrond as well. He seemed to melt away from the wall, curious to inspect the new comer. Eyes flared brightly in the infrared spectrum, picking out heat residue. Curious indeed. Slipping along with the confidence of one who was familiar with his surroundings, he popped out behind a stalagmite; immediately, his eyes landed upon the surface Elf.

Eyebrows rose in slight question.

"I take it that your wandering around aimlessly in the Underdark is no accident?" Even though his voice was quiet, it carried. Of that, he was sure.

[Azeroth]

By the time Serlon heard the footsteps by the stalagmite, the drow was already asking the question. He was taken off guard; he always knew someone was coming. "N-no it wasn't," stammered Serlon, recovering himself. "Who be you who speaks to me?" he asked the voice. It was a quiet voice, certainly no arrogant human half drunk with ale. Serlon's hand, the one not touching the wall, went to his sword. Sober people looking for trouble almost always succeed.

Serlon wished he could see the speaker. Maybe sight was important after all...

[Lagalath]

(XD *snort* a bit too late for that, eh? How did he lose his sight?)

[Azeroth]

(If you must know, I can post in the Endless Tomes....)

[Maverick]

"Hmmm." He made a little noise of acknowledgement and padded over on silent feet. "You can relax. Rest assured, if I wanted to battle, you would have been dead already. Or not, depending on your skill with your weapon."

Why was is that the other's eyes did not show much heat? In the infrared spectrum, one could always tell someone by the heat radiating from eyes. This one did not have the right amount of heat. The drow inched nearer, mindful of the sword. Curiouse and curioser. Madel did not think a person could be without sight.

[Freyr]

(hey, you could )

[Azeroth]

Now that he was alert to another's presence, Serlon had no trouble noticing that the scrape of matter against matter, shoe against ground, came closer to him. Yet he was impressed by the lack of usual sound it made. At the same time, it also made him nervous. A blind elf liked his personal space, to say the least.

"My skill with my weapons do not concern you unless you plan to test them." Serlon took a step back to accomodate the steps the stranger was making towards him. To keep his direction, he left a hand on the wall. It irritated him. The hand on the wall was his right hand; his right hand wielded the longer sword. His left usually danced with the shorter, faster blade. In the darkness, against a stranger with a weapon and a reach he couldn't see, the longer blade was definitely better. Oh well, he'll make do, he'll make do...

[Maverick]

"You're right. It does not concern me. And I would care less if I tested them or not." He shrugged, tone full of indifference. Yet, out of instinct, muscles tightened and fingers twitched slightly.

"What concerns me more is your presence. What has the Underdark done to merit a visit from a Surface Dweller? Surely, you've heard the tales; you would have been foolish not to heed them." Madel laughed lightly, eyes gravitating to over his shoulder, back to where he had come from.

[Azeroth]

"The way you speak...you're a Drow, are you not?" Serlon balanced himself, one foot in front of the other. "I've never seen one in my lifetime. But then again, I haven't seen much of anything in my lifetime...for a long time. My business here concerns you not, and yes, of course I've heard the myths and the legends. The humans tend to exaggerate more than the Elves do, you know. Their tales are quite interesting. However, I refuse to fear what I cannot see, and since I cannot see what threats lay before me, I'll not fear them."

Perhaps coming here was a bad idea. The people he met turned from arrogant humans to suspicious drow. But then again, Serlon would gladly pick the latter any day...

[Maverick]

"Not fear Drow?" Madel murmured to himself, as if in disbelief. Then he let out a quiet laugh, smooth and velvety. "I have only heard one other person say that of my spieces. You are either very foolish or very naive."

In what seemed like one movement, he was behind the other, scimitar drawn. The slight noise that movement made was tangible in the air. "I am more inclined to think the former, Surface Dweller. Having business in the Underdark with no fear of the Drow Elf is very foolish indeed. Unless you prove to me otherwise, that none of that is true?"

[Azeroth]

Serlon let go of the wall, letting his right hand grasp the hilt of his sword. He drew it out slowly, let the whisper of sliding blade echo in the suspicious silence of the cave. Normally, he'd be at a disadvantage; Elves weren't keen fighters in the dark. However, he's spent enough years into darkness to overcome that disadvantage. "While it is true that perhaps I am more foolish than naive, I posess neither sufficiently to be ignorant. Rather, it is because, despite the stories, you are still a being, and like all beings, you can be slayed. I owe the fear people feel for you to the darkness you surround yourself with. To one accustomed to such darkness, you are just another opponent, and I can easily prove it."

[Maverick]

Eyes followed the movement of the arm, seemingly fascinated. Madel looked as all of his attention was focused on that certain appendage.

"Of course." He inclinded his head and drew out his other blade with a sibilant hiss. "As you said, I am like any other living creature. And I suppose you would want to go ahead and do the honors?" He took a step backwards, bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet.

"Show me what you can do."

[Azeroth]

Inwardly, Serlon chided himself for making the first move. He hadn't done that in decades, a century. However, this situation seemed to call for it.

From the sounds, the drow was probably a couple feet behind him. He was constantly moving, the tiny pebbles consistently scraping against the drow's footwear. It was a style Serlon was not accustomed to; Serlon prefered to balance himself and stand still. That's just what he did too. He stood perfectly immobile, letting his instinct govern his first attack.

Before the thought registered to his own mind, his feet pivoted him around, and in the same movement, slashed the sword straight up. It was to catch the drow off guard; normally, first strikes are given from either above or from the side. He didn't expect the slice to hit; while the first sword kept his opponent occupied, Serlon quickly drew his second blade.

[Maverick]

Decades of fighting taught Madel to always watch his opponent's moves, try to be one step ahead. That was the advantage of heat infrared vision. He watched as the elf's muscles moved across the bone, tightness in joints and ligaments often signalling where the next blow would be struck.

He did expect the attack to come from the side, when it did not, he was forced to alter his position. Twisting his arm at an impossible angle, he managed to block the other's blade with his own, near the hilt. The ring of metal against metal sent delightful shivers down his spine.

Thinking quickly, he thrust his rapier is a diagonal arc, keeping clear of the occupied blade. Wind whistled as it whipped through the ai. He changed the weight distribution on his feet, making it easier to parry.