He glanced down the tunnel, wanting to rush in with reckless abandon and take out the drow raiding party.

Females.

Priestesses.

How his blade longed to spill the blood of Lloth's Clerics! He took out his superheated mirror and flashed his son the signal.

The screams echoed throughout the cavern.

They had heard of this one. This, purple-eyed devil. Ched Nassad had recieved word from the much-praised Matron Baenre that activity in the northern tunnels could be the much-feared rogue house Do'Urden. After hearing about the strange house that had abandoned it's heritage, the city sent a raiding party to eliminate the threat.

To appease the Spider Queen.

The last thing the Drow heard was a swoosh of air as the scimitar was brought down on his head. The brains leaked out onto the floor. The priestesses had heard the dying groan of their companion and exploded into action. Enacting spells of invisibility the five scattered throughout the small cavern to seek shelter from the deadly swordsmen.

Zaknafein smiled as his hand dropped to his neckpurse. Twirling the small globe in his fingers, he nodded to his son to drop the cowl of his cloak to cover his eyes.

The priestesses heard a click as the small ball dropped to the floor.

The swoosh of a whip foretold their death.

The thing broke apart unleashing blinding light that dropped all of the women to the floor. Drizzt started to his left hearing the groan of one of the drow. As he walked calmly by, a blur, almost indistinguishable, whipped out of his sheath and the head of the damned woman fell to the floor.

"A pity indeed father," said Drizzt as he continued his trek along the cavern, dropping the heads of Lloth's faithful as he went.

"What?" A somewhat confused Zak answered.

"A pity it is that these confounded clerics dont proove much of a challenge."

Zak chuckled as he heard the last one of the priestesses die.

"The air grows fresh, and clean about us as each day passes." Said Zak with an excited burst of engergy.

"A telltale sign that we reach the surface."

"Within days, we shall reach the duerar city of Qu'Armoth. The mine that they stole from the surface elves, connects to the surface, with our numbers, it would prove a simple task indeed to either eliminate them, or take them in as slaves," chuckled Zak.

"Slaves, to what end?" Said Drizzt, trying to remind his over-zealous father that they had repented their evil ways.

"Remember, they once killed a thousand Dwarves and more, for the mere gains of a mine. We merely mean to borrow it them, and to eventually return it to the Dwarves when they come back to claim it."

Drizzt chuckled at the wierd sense of humor his father displayed. No Dwarves were even rumored to have survived the attack on the former Mithril Hall (as the surface dwellers once called it.).

"We shall avenge them," Drizzt told his father.

Zak smiled and stretched the excited wave of energy that coursed through his muscles.

Soon, they would look upon the Duergar, the Duergar that would be running throught the tunnels, back into the Underdark.

"Ched Nassad was it." Malice questioned.

"Yes, mother. They were well prepared. But the news that presumably came to them through Baenre excluded the reputation of house Do'Urden's weapon master, and his son."

Malice cackled wickedly as she thought of Lloth screaming at her minions at the failed attack.

Malice thought of old times, when she was at Arach Tinilith. The bile that filled her mouth as she listened to stories of conquest and glories, achieved through Lloth, the Spider "Queen."

And the disfavor her family had fallen into when Lloth had discovered her true thoughts. Malice hid everything after that, even her distaste for the death of those for her own race. But she would not kill one of her family members. Malice's mother had been the only Matron Mother to die of old age in the history of the Drow people. A people reknowned for their exceptional record-keeping skills. Taking the family up through the heirarchy of Menzoberanzan was the saving grace of House Do'Urden.

Well she thought.

A warm home at the end of a long weary road, makes it all worthwhile.