Beside him walks the one known as Blackblade, a behemoth of a jaluk clad in the heaviest steel and shrouded in a jet black cloak, crimson pools of radiance staring at the world around him from within the depths of his dark cowl, sword hand resting idly on the rune-engraved pommel of his weapon.
A stocky female in black unembellished duergar plate follows. Her white hair rough cut and pulled back into a ponytail blended with her ebon black skin marks her distinctively as Drow. She rattles like mobile armoury as the various weapons she carries on her person clink against her. Some may know her as Verona.
Daug'aonar has a wicked looking cleaver at his side, as always, but in his left hand he carries a cage containing a juvenile giant spider. The type that might be reared as a pet, were such a thing possible. It does not seem docile in any way though, and the keen observer would notice several spider bites on the drow's bare hand holding the cage. Perhaps the creature put up a struggle before it was so imprisoned.
Daug'aonar and his companions swagger through the city to the south, heading to the Darkwoods. They avoids use of the portal. A product of the Darkwoods shebali himself, Daug perhaps has claim to be one of the more successful and prominent of those who rose from such origins. He certainly walks with an easy confidence through that dangerous district itself, but appearances can be deceiving.
It is a short walk to the Nau'klar, which they enter to buy a drink. Daug'aonar sups his quietly, his helmet off to reveal a face swathed in black cloth, beady eyes looking around at the residents and ignoring his arachnid cargo. Verona's narrow purple eyes sweep the room. Her gaze an appraising judgement of the patrons and establishment. Blackblade orders no drinks, merely standing close by and towering on the majority of the establishment's customers, the aura of fear radiating from him almost solid. When he stands up to leave, Daug leaves a large tip, a hundred times the worth of the drink.
Once out of the door again, Daug'aonar unceremoniously sets down the cage and removes the spider, receiving more bites to his scarred flesh in the process. Its now that the other contents of the cage, a hammer and a large nail, become evident, as he nails the twitching spider to the door of the tavern.
"Darkwoods for life." He says, to no one in particular. "Sshamath is strong." before heading back to the Darkwoods portal, and thence to the Bregan Headquarters.
"The caverns are dark, In them, you are free." are the only words the female has spoken since joining the patrol. Her weapons clinking once more like rain on a tin roof walking ever one step right and behind Daug'aonar.
Silent as usual, Blackblade observes the scene, then the onlookers one by one, as if daring them to intervene. He lingers a moment more after Daug takes the portal, and then follows him through.
Yet their arachnid victim remains...
