Of course, Tarlak hadn't long been on the surface, although at this moment in time his over all review of the surface had to be some thing akin to mild disappointment. He watched the humans of the world flit about their business, they ran and rushed about and made mistakes and errors. What where they thinking? But Tarlak knew that they only had short life spans, they were compelled to cram whatever they could into it before they fell down and never got back up again.
His keen eyes however had spotted on numerous occasions houses where humans joined together and seemed to celebrate and cheer for no reason what so ever. Of course he knew what they were, he just liked to play stupid, let someone take a guess at what he's thinking then prove them wrong in the most spectacular of fashions. By making profit. Well he thought it spectacular.

The tavern door pushed open without a noise, apparently well oiled although it didn't need too as the drow stepped into the room, silence rolled over the crowds and most of them acted incredibly sober. It was true, apparently. Drow were a sobering sight. He took off his hat and gave a long swooping bow and threw a sly wink at a wench sat promiscuously upon another hairy, snaggle toothed gentleman. The woman came over all flushed at the exotic creature before her giving her such a promise. Of course it meant nothing to Tarlak but it seemed to cease the crowds from their staring and get back to what ever it was they were doing, mostly drinking and conversing. Though there was some more questionable acts concerning the woman from before. He would have to make sure he found out what they were, the snaggle toothed fellow certainly seemed to enjoy.
Turning to Dispater he slapped his on his broad shoulders.
”You never told me such places exist, come on, we need refreshing do we not? Can you doubt our travels have not been sufficient enough for us to enjoy one night of jovial intoxication? Even you must desire some ale or some of those finer and more potent wines. I wonder if they have Comryr brany here, i doubt it truly i do.”

Dispater remained sticking around Tarlak for awhile, they went wherever the drow wished, and in exchange he gave this fantastic opportunity for Dispater to study a true drow, not just from the books and tomes often used to read. He had to agree, the experience of actually seeing and observing the creatures of his interest was far more satisfying than just reading about them.

Now they traveled to the greatest city of Arda, Lomedor, at first Dispater didn’t want to come, he just hated civilization, he hated the commoners and the peasants, to him they just smelt funny, such a strange creature he was, indeed. Before he could even realize, they traveled through the main square of the city, curios and weird glances being thrown at them from all directions, none of them bothered or even managed to get the attention of the ‘giant demon’, they made quite a couple, everywhere they were regarded with suspicion, and they often said as a response to their appearance: “A trouble never comes alone”, and yes that affirmation proved to be true.

The first building to visit was in fact a pub, the pub he had so many times before visited, he made quite a name there, the owner knew him, even know after he changed his appearance, in order for Dispater to let them still function they offered him small services, free drinks, rooms and even from time to time items. Dispater visited there only when he had to hunt down some criminal, or to collect some bounty. But now it was different, and even if any familiar expression was shown on the demon’s face, he walked in after Tarlak. The drow already made victims with his charm, another interesting aspect to observe.

“You never asked!” Came the typical reaction from the arachnomancer, before they both walked over to the bar, Dispater took a seat on a stool, and glanced over to the bartender. A fake smile lined the lips of the bartender, he knew all too well who this man was, and he moved like the wind towards them, leaving everyone else wait. “Allow me to offer you and your friend a drink on the house. What is that you wish, Widower?” << Widower >> was in fact the name Dispater has made in such place, he was a bane of those who wronged him. “Some fizzy and fresh drink, I am suffocating, also show this fine fellow the same hospitality.” Said the ‘Widower’ while motioning over to Tarlak. To that the bartender perked his brow, a wave of curiosity rushing throughout his being, maybe the drow was a friend of his? Was the Widower capable of having friends? It did not matter, he just awaited the drow’s order, before going to grab the drinks.

Tarlak stood idly by Dispater as his huge frame waltzed past him, he was too keen to soak up the atmosphere of the room, people were all making merry and singing songs which Tarlak never really knew. This was the perfect time for him to make some acquaintances for his future endeavours up here in Arda. There was connections to establish and somewhere in this ramshackle room of drunks and debauchery there was bound to be someone worth knowing, someone's who's pockets were well lined with gold and if their body be full with liquor too then so much the better for Tarlak and Dispater. Tarlak would reel them in with his infectious charm, Dispater just had to do as he was told. It seemed to work that way between the pair of them, a quiet mutual understanding. Tarlak does the thinking and the talking whilst Dispater did all the doing. It seemed to work for them most of the time.

He looked over to his friend who seemed to have stricken up a conversation with the barman, well what passed for a conversation in Dispaters terms, he wasn't the greatest of conversationalists, something Tarlak would have to work on. The barman sigalled him over, with a curious glance he wandered over to the bar and casually leant over it.
”And what would you be calling a fellow like me over for?” Of course the barman was somewhat stunned by the drows fluent and almost musical grasp on the common tongue, though it soon passed.
“You want what?” The barman replied, his stubby arms waving behind him at the assortment of racks and bottles all lined up.
Tarlak was amazed, he could see some of the labels and indeed quite a number of them were a hard tipple to locate, the barman must of pulled a few strings. Excellent.
”Then you may have Comryr brandy then by my guess? After all that is the dyrr wine is it not?” he pointed to a particular nasty looking bottle, the bottle itself was dust covered, there wasn't any particular request for it, but having a knowledge of it was good. Helped you stay away from it, unless you were an orc of some sort, who seemed to have a love for it.
“Aye that's it, I'm thinkin' were havin' some of the stuff you lookin' fors” Of course the barman went off to look round the various racks, though Tarlak soon disappeared back into the crowd, wanting to soak up every spectacle of the evening.

Dispater perked a brow slightly at his traveling fellow, he was already starting to make friends and acquaintances, most than likely he was trying to find some influent man or woman who would fill his bags with gold, and ask him to work for them, do a job or two for a handsome repayment. But as a matter of fact he was looking all in the wrong place, the area was known to be inhabited only by criminals as well as the pub, it was the tavern of the criminals, everyone was either a cutthroat, a thug, or some other more insane criminal. But when all were together it didn’t matter, they conversed, shared experiences and even sell or buy certain items on the so called “black market”.

But maybe that’s exactly what Tarlak wanted to do, to share some of his experience with the other thugs around, the main hall was pretty crowded for the time being, as if everyone took a day off. But Dispater didn’t care about all those things, his way of thinking and acting was situated somewhere on another level, that’s why he often seemed strange, and naïve, but the truth was that he just didn’t like to mingle with the inferior creatures such as humans. Again his arrogance had to say an important thing about him.

The barman left for awhile but returned, with the ordered drinks, the fizzy liquid was placed before Dispater, and the wine in front of the place located to the right of Dispater, where Tarlak was supposed to come and retrieve his drink.

Meanwhile, Dispater isolated himself from the rest of his world, his eyes were pointing downwards, and his minds drifted off with distant thoughts, his glass was in hand and he took the occasional sip from it.

It wasn't long before Tarlak saw something he might make profit from, a gentleman sat in the corner of the tavern, he was clothed in fine fabrics, loose fittings silks that would allow for the most freedom of movements, he wore a plentiful supply of gold and jewels about his person. His entire hand seemed to be covered in rings, all glittering in the eyes of Tarlak and inspiring thoughts of profit. Just underneath a long and lavish cloak of green, its edges lined in silver he could see the handle of some form a weapon, mostly a short sword or a dagger, given the ease and position that man sat in, almost slouched. His arm around another fellow to his left and another draped over a woman who looked more whorish then elegant.
None of the crowd of people surrounding the finely dressed gentleman seemed to notice Tarlak staring at them from his position amongst the throng of people. He seemed to be talking to some unsavoury looking characters, the perfect type of people that Tarlak would associate with, though none of them were as ruthless than a drow or as clever, manipulating them would be as easy as stabbing a blind man.

With an eager gait he made his way back to the bar and once again caught the attention of the barman, although half way through dealing with another patron, the snapping of the drows fingers and the rattling of his coin purse brought him over, somewhat irate.
”Take more Comryr brandy over to those fellows in the corner, tell them it was from me.” he grabbed one of the stools and shook it, the legs rocked with ease though they seemed sturdy enough to hold Tarlak. Placing himself down he gave a wink to Dispater as he spoke.
”Watch a snake at work” Though he didn't wait for a reply, most likely none was forth coming. The bar man slammed some glasses down on the table and spoke in earnest to the drow.
“These ones aint free, fer yourself aye, but im not for havin' you send out drinks for naught an losin me money” He would of carried on but Tarlak interjected.
”I should not fear good sir, you shall be well compensated for you efforts this night, you heared my coin purse jingle and know it is well stocked and more where that comes from i can assure you. Just do what i tell you and things shall run smoothly between us” he smiled a smile only a drow could and watched as serving wench took over the drinks.

“Watch a snake at work”… It was unknown what kind of charms or spell those words carried with them, but they were the only ones which manage to make Dispater snap out of his short-lived meditation. His gaze departed from the floor and turned slowly to look at the face of the drow once more. The arachnomancer had that look of confusion on his face, he looked as if just woke up, but with a shrug of his shoulders he took another sip of his drink and followed with his eyes the wench that was going to deliver the drinks to the man, sitting at a table in one of the tavern’s corners. He looked noble, with elegant clothes and a short sword hanging at his side which looked more like a jewelry than a weapon. Did he also know how to use it in a fight or only to impress the women with them?

Just a small glance towards this man, and Dispater felt like he was starting to get sick from the stomach, a feeling of repulsion and aversion overwhelming him slowly, he didn’t feel at all comfortable now, but he had no choice, next time he will not do only like the drow wished. Observing him or not, it was enough, from now on he will have a thing to say, if they would still stick around for awhile. This whole thing seemed without a purpose, and it was weird for the concordant killer, not too long ago he used to dedicate every second of his life to a purpose, to a cause: following and preserving the cosmic balance. It was a change for him, his life seemed more relax now, but he couldn’t complain.

Even if he felt an aversion toward the gentleman from the corner, he continued to watch him, curios at what Tarlak had in plan, what was he really trying to do, or prove by jingling his bag of coins in front of the barman. He was there for only less than ten minutes and he was already the center of attention, all eyes were directed at him, directly or indirectly.

“What exactly do you plan with this man?” The tone of his voice was slightly changed, and it showed that he didn’t really liked what was happening around, even if he had no idea what was that about. Maybe that’s what he bothered him in the first place: the fact that he didn’t know what the drow planned in what concerned the nobleman.

A furtive look came across Tarlaks face as he took no notice to Dispater, he didn't acknowledge the fact that he had replied, he just remained firm in his gaze upon the nobleman sat in the corner. The wench carried the drinks nervously across to the table, she seemed afraid, not willing to get pulled down by the lads and have all sorts of indecencies done to her. Though such was the price for working in such an establishment, like it or not.
Sure enough as the drinks approached the table, she directed the men's stares from her cleavage to the drow, at the bar. He sat their raising his glass and dipping his hat ever so slightly at them.
The wheels had been set in motion.
The men knew the drinks before them were of coin that they could never achieve, they also gave them suspicious glances, after all it was a drow who had bought them for them. The nudged and prodded one another before it was decided by the thugs judicial system that the short plump one drink it or be stuck with a knife in the hand.
Such elegance, the noblemen's eyes darted too and fro from the drinks to the drow, he watched as the unlucky tester took a swig of his drink. As expected by Tarlak he coughed and wheezed, the drink was known to be rather potent. Of course fearing the worse they drew their swords, though the portly fellow, waved his arms and through a wheezing breath he groaned.
“Its good, real stuff”
Once again the nobleman's eyes gazed at Tarlak who only gave a smile and turned away to look over the bar. Not quite sure what to make of it, the short fellow was once again ordered to do what he was told and to go and acquire Tarlaks presence.

His chair shifted back with an uncomfortable groan, the man appeared more portly than Tarlak had seen after he had waddled over to him. A greasy and stubby finger poked him on the shoulder, Tarlak knew it would be some kind of make shift emissary though he feigned surprise.
”Oh my”
“Boss is wantin' you” The same finger that poked him also pointed him in the direction of the table, where all the fellows separated, leaving a gap opposite the lavishly dressed nobleman.
He looked back at Dispater and threw him a sly grin and turned his attention back to the table.
”Better not keep him waiting then” Leaving his stool, he wrapped his ebony fingers around a glass and made his way to the table, once again pushing past the throng of people and sat himself down in the newly found gap.

Dispater remained literary perplexed, with his eyes still fully focusing on the nobleman, the same nobleman Tarlak wanted to work out with his charms for still unknown purposes to Dispater. He asked what was all this about, yet he had no answer, the drow just ignored him, and that angered the hell out of the ‘giant demon’, the anger was there, building inside him, slowly, step by step, he bit his lip and felt like he was going to explode. If he will burst out now, he will most than likely ruin the plans of his ebony skilled fellow. So with a great effort of will and a lot of determination, he managed to calm himself, and eventually return to his drink, which was not that fizzy anymore.

The glass was shaken slightly, before lifted up to the his lips once more, downing his throat all the liquid, before asking… no, actually demanding a refill. Only the powerful tonality of his voice managed to make the bartender snap and come to him, as it seemed that every single member of the tavern had their eyes on the nobleman and the approaching drow, except for Dispater of course who chose a whole into the wall to focus all of his attention to, while keeping to enjoy as many drinks as he liked. Many would tell that he was apathetic, he didn’t care about anything, only about himself. The whole world should spin around him.

Once more he managed to isolate himself from the rest of the people around him, memories were flowing through his head, of his past life, and even more distant and more intimate ones, that he always tried to forget.

Tarlak sat amongst the men, his eyes wandering round every one else, matching their stares with his own, making sure they knew full well his intent should they attempt something. One second he was a kind and generous stranger, the next moment he was their tormentor. And no one dared speak up. He threw a quick look over his shoulder to Dispater, he sat there in the throes of madness, being left alone and out of the loop could do that to a person, though Tarlak knew ways to remedy such as that.
He turned his attention away from his companion and to the crowd, though more importantly to the well dressed noble.
”You appear to be quite the liked fellow i do dare say, it would be wise for me to throw my lot in with you whilst the opportunity presents itself. Hence why i sent you a generous gift from far Comryr. I hope it was too your likings?”
The nobleman only nodded once, the rest of his men looked eagerly at Tarlak and were quite keen on listening too him.
”So, you seem like you have a name for yourselves round these parts, I'm willing to join your crew and make your name that little bit more important, after all who would not fear a group who had a drow amongst their ranks.”
The men nodded and the nobleman finally spoke.
”Go on”
”Why thats it my good fellow, you would think i come asking for something.” He paused and looked over his shoulder again at Dispater. ”well there is Him...He has been stalking me for a few days now, i know well his game. He seeks to do me harm. I have tried to steer away from him though he is like a hound ever on my tail. Should the strongest of you be able to remove of him then i shall be ever in your debt and get to the theft of something for you guys in return.” His eyes glanced at a particularly able bodied fellow. As too did the rest of the groups. A nod of the noble man's head and he stood, cracking his knuckles staring at Dispater.
Smiling knowingly he grinned and waited for the certain pummelling of the rogue to take place.

You couldn’t tell the differences between a statue and Dispater at that time, he didn’t even blink, his red irises enlarged as his eyes remained fully focused on the same whole as before. What a strange manner of wasting the time! Even if at that moment Tarlak was the only one who was talking in the building, Dispater didn’t manage to hear him, he was lost, far away, in a realm similar to that of dreams. He was living once more a part of his life, a distant quest where he met that woman… blonde she was, and with blue eyes, it was for the first time when he allowed someone to approach him and befriend him, but things went terribly wrong, and ever since he lost her he closed up into himself.

After Tarlak was done talking, all the people from the tavern turned their gazes on him instead, they even cleared the path between him and the rogue which was supposed to take him down, ‘to help Tarlak with this problem of his’. The rogue stood up, and readied his dagger, approaching his target with the move silently ability, not like it was needed, now when Dispater was day dreaming. His breathing became unnoticeable, and the thought of a victory already started to make him feel very important and good as being an assassin. It was pretty obvious that rogue and the rest of the gang was not from these parts if they didn’t hear about the Widower, but none even managed a single word of warning towards them.

A powerful thrust and the blade of the dagger managed to find its way through the dusky skin of the killer and even it pierced a portion of his muscle. The sudden stinging pain, heightened Dispater’s senses to their max, his eyes were wide-opened and he turned quickly, elbowing the man into the side of his face. The strength of Dispater was great and it sent the slender man to the ground, an electrical surge happened before his eyes, and for a moment he almost passed out. The dagger remained impaled into Dispater’s back for awhile, before he pulled it out and threw himself over the hopeless rogue, and before the rogue could even react he found himself impaled through the throat by his own dagger, his death was inevitable.
The execution was quick and painful, blood was scattered all over Dispater’s arms, but the executioner was not impressed, and stood up ready for another fight, if the rest of the gang wanted a piece of him. “What in the nine hells possessed him to do that… now is there anyone else who wants a piece of him?!” He growled and grunted, rage was taking over him.

He knew what was going to happen to the poor fellow, Dispater was in one of his states where he would phase out of the real world and enter into his own little universe where nothing existed except the constant stream of thoughts that floated around in his head and kept him thinking about whatever it was that dragged him away from reality
Of course, it didn't take too much to bring him back. Tarlak cheered as the dagger stuck in his partners back not wanting to break the façade he had set up for himself, he allowed it to carry watching as the man was smashed into the floor by a mighty elbow and his own knife protruding from his chest. Gutted with your own knife. What a dishonour.

Tarlak turned his eyes to the rest of the group, who were still staring at the giant frame of Dispater, as was everyone else, even a few of the promiscuous women in the corner seemed to be giving him looks, although they were for other reasons than fear.
”It looks as if an opening has appeared within the ranks of your group and it looks like your going to need better muscle than that, how about i offer you him?” He nodded at Dispater and the gangs jaws collectively dropped in surprise.
”You see, it was a clear test of how ruthless and ambitious a drow can truly be, i have also proven the worth of having both myself and my companion in your little gang, now then. What say you to having us sign up to your little troupe?” He addressed the noble directely, his hand of many golden rings began to shake and quiver, he was honestly frightened of the possibilities of saying now. What if he did? How soon would he be dead just like his companion.
The nobles eyes glanced at Tarlak who sat impassive and calm to the commotion caused by Dispater.
Tarlak clicked his fingers at Dispater and beckoned him over, still in the knowledge that they were terrified of the pair of them now.
”Widower friend come here!” It was then they realised whom the mighty figure was, jumping to his feet, waving his hands in the air the noble yelled.
“Welcome to the gang”

Dispater erupted into a mad laughter, and with a quick motion he took the dagger out of the man’s chest, and gripped it powerfully into his right hand, it looked so tiny in contrast with his large and massive hand. He had the look of a psycho on his face, the rush of the battle has taken over him, and the bleeding wound upon his back didn’t help any. Now, unlike earlier he managed to hear the conversation between his traveler companion and the gang of the nobleman. A gang?! The killer perked his brow slowly, continuing to approach the said gang from which the executed rogue once belonged to. He was not quite satisfied with only one kill, he needed to find out whoever ordered the man to come after him and attempt his assassination.

He came towards Tarlak, but not because he asked him to, but because he was angered, and required another bloodshed. “Gang, eh? Those like me don’t mingle with inferior creatures such as you. So take that gang of yours and shove it up your rear” By now he was in front of the nobleman and smacked the bloody dagger into the table, they locked eyes into a dangerous glare, one wrong move and the nobleman would be the next one to be executed. Perhaps this ruined any plan of Tarlak to join a gang, but Dispater didn’t care, this went already too far for his liking. So he turned around, threw a last glance to the ebony skinned man before storming outside the tavern, he needed some fresh air.