When he'd agreed to be Matron Malice's sacrifice, he'd expected her to do it immediately. The reason why she'd chosen to wait eludes him. Surely they didn't mean to wait until after the battle? They'd hoped to regain Lolth's favor with his murder. During the first hours of his imprisonment in the chapel anteroom, he'd grown more and more sick as the turmoil of his own thoughts tortured him. Over the idea that she intended to make the boy watch. His son, his precious, powerful son. Powerful not only in his skill with the blade, but his persevering strength of heart as well.
"How much longer will your heart survive, my son?" He murmured softly into the darkness, his heart aching in fear of what was to come. Not of his death. No, Zaknafein had accepted the fact of his inevitable end long ago. He fears for Drizzt, having to face this wretched world alone.
Something must have happened. Malice would not have waited without due cause. Did they find Drizzt? Is he alive? Dammit all! It had been easy to make the decision when his death had been immanent. Now with all this time to think, could there be another way? Would he even survive and escape? Perhaps going out in the heat of battle would be preferable to his soul being handed over to the Demonweb Pits of the Abyss.
Eventually, he can hear a commotion outside of the antechamber doors. Runners come to warn the guards that Matron Malice was on her way, and she was more than angry. The Second Boy had cursed her, and ran. Drizzt did what?
Zaknafein couldn't help himself. It started softly, but soon he was laughing almost uncontrollably at the thoughts. He'd pushed his limits as far as he could go, but he never would have had the strength to pull off something like that. He composes himself a moment later, after the guards banged threateningly on the door. His path has been decided for him then. There was no way he'd leave Drizzt to the horrors of the Underdark alone.
He banged back on the door, kicking it hard with a single, booted foot. The guards, in their cockiness, figured that without his weapons, the Weapon Master wasn't much a master of anything. They learned quickly enough how wrong they truly were. There's more to a battle than simply their weapons. Moving faster than either of them could have imagined, Zaknafein had managed to break one of their necks, then used his own sword to impale the other, the hilt still grasped in the his hand.
Zak divests one of them of their sword belt and piwafwi, leaving the armor for lack of time. If Malice is coming, it's in his best interest to put as much space between them as possible. Trying to catch Zaknafein Do'Urden is like trying to reach out and take hold of a whirlwind. One is liable to find themselves caught up in the flurry of blades and scattered about the surrounding area.
Without armor, he's in a far worse off position that Drizzt, but he runs off through the city with as much stealth as he can muster and right into the exiting caverns without so much as a breath of hesitation. His son could have gone in an endless array of directions, so the most he can do is start somewhere and hope for the best. He knows, perhaps better than most, how to track someone through the Underdark, but the task is made harder without the benefit of a starting point.
He continues moving, unrelenting in those first hours out in the labyrinthine tunnels, as much in the hopes of catching some hint of his son's trail as it is to but distance between him and Menzoberranzan as he could.
Then there was light.
It appears so suddenly that he runs right into it without having the time to even think about stopping. Whatever it is, it's nothing like the quick flash of the light pellets he'd use against his foes. This is brighter, all encompassing and unrelenting. Zak skids to a halt, throwing one arm up over his eyes as he draws one of his swords, in a quick, almost unreadable motion.
Fierce red eyes try to peer out around him, only to be forced closed again by the blinding, searing brightness of whatever magic had caught him. He's not ready to go down just yet though, trying to force his breathing calm so he can at least listen to the movements around him.
"Well come on then, if you think you have caught me." He says in his native language. "Zaknafein is not so easily taken!"
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"How much longer will your heart survive, my son?" He murmured softly into the darkness, his heart aching in fear of what was to come. Not of his death. No, Zaknafein had accepted the fact of his inevitable end long ago. He fears for Drizzt, having to face this wretched world alone.
Something must have happened. Malice would not have waited without due cause. Did they find Drizzt? Is he alive? Dammit all! It had been easy to make the decision when his death had been immanent. Now with all this time to think, could there be another way? Would he even survive and escape? Perhaps going out in the heat of battle would be preferable to his soul being handed over to the Demonweb Pits of the Abyss.
Eventually, he can hear a commotion outside of the antechamber doors. Runners come to warn the guards that Matron Malice was on her way, and she was more than angry. The Second Boy had cursed her, and ran. Drizzt did what?
Zaknafein couldn't help himself. It started softly, but soon he was laughing almost uncontrollably at the thoughts. He'd pushed his limits as far as he could go, but he never would have had the strength to pull off something like that. He composes himself a moment later, after the guards banged threateningly on the door. His path has been decided for him then. There was no way he'd leave Drizzt to the horrors of the Underdark alone.
He banged back on the door, kicking it hard with a single, booted foot. The guards, in their cockiness, figured that without his weapons, the Weapon Master wasn't much a master of anything. They learned quickly enough how wrong they truly were. There's more to a battle than simply their weapons. Moving faster than either of them could have imagined, Zaknafein had managed to break one of their necks, then used his own sword to impale the other, the hilt still grasped in the his hand.
Zak divests one of them of their sword belt and piwafwi, leaving the armor for lack of time. If Malice is coming, it's in his best interest to put as much space between them as possible. Trying to catch Zaknafein Do'Urden is like trying to reach out and take hold of a whirlwind. One is liable to find themselves caught up in the flurry of blades and scattered about the surrounding area.
Without armor, he's in a far worse off position that Drizzt, but he runs off through the city with as much stealth as he can muster and right into the exiting caverns without so much as a breath of hesitation. His son could have gone in an endless array of directions, so the most he can do is start somewhere and hope for the best. He knows, perhaps better than most, how to track someone through the Underdark, but the task is made harder without the benefit of a starting point.
He continues moving, unrelenting in those first hours out in the labyrinthine tunnels, as much in the hopes of catching some hint of his son's trail as it is to but distance between him and Menzoberranzan as he could.
Then there was light.
It appears so suddenly that he runs right into it without having the time to even think about stopping. Whatever it is, it's nothing like the quick flash of the light pellets he'd use against his foes. This is brighter, all encompassing and unrelenting. Zak skids to a halt, throwing one arm up over his eyes as he draws one of his swords, in a quick, almost unreadable motion.
Fierce red eyes try to peer out around him, only to be forced closed again by the blinding, searing brightness of whatever magic had caught him. He's not ready to go down just yet though, trying to force his breathing calm so he can at least listen to the movements around him.
"Well come on then, if you think you have caught me." He says in his native language. "Zaknafein is not so easily taken!"