The dark field was oddly active, many different kinds of demons and undead lingering about, They didn't seem to have an objective, only walking about and looking about for food.

Bones piled up in every direction, and if this wasn't enough, the entire area smelled of decaying bodies and burnt flesh. The demons didn't seem to be bothered, for it was a common smell.

Atop one of the larger piles of dead bodies sat a large, black dragon skeleton. Its eyes glowed a faint red, its barbed tail twitching slightly occasionally. It sighed and looked around, seeming to be bored of the repetitive moments of the demons below.

'These creatures, are they mindless? They look for food, but check the same places. Furthermore, why don't they just eat each other? It would save me from boredom. and it would also save them from their miserable lives...' the dead wyrm thought sadistically to itself, having nothing better to do other then hope for a sad little imp's death.

It then got up, and glided down and smashed a small pink demon into the ground, killing it instantly. 'It is sad....it didn't even attempt to defend itself...' the dragon thought before concentrating deeply.

Selecun....

The wyrm’s body reshaped drastically, it back straightening, its wings forcing themselves into its body. It then grew skin, organs filling in the spaces. His horns retracted, and its face reformed into that of a man. It grew hair, long and silver.

After the transformation was complete, the now man grabbed a ripped up cloak and dented black armor from the piles of dead, and covered up his now nude body. He then decided to look for someone to talk to, who wasn't dead nor stupid. He decided to search near the border, seeing as how most steer clear of the center of the dead lands.

After an hour of walking, the wyrm polymorph suddenly stopped. Suddenly several shadows appeared from darkness, floating towards him at mildly quick speeds. Behind them, a large undead stood, large scythe in one hand and spellbook in the other. The man slammed headlong into the shades, but simply went through them. Anticipating this, the man continued on and drove a kick towards the apparent lich, hoping to catch it off guard.

Dark was that night in the Land of the Dead, made darker still by the omnipresent gray-black clouds that hung over the place like a sickness. The drow had visited this place many times in her dreams and in her astral travels as a drow cleric in the service of Lolth and her Matron Mother, but she had never physically been to the place. She scowled. She did not mind the sight, but the smell was far worse than that of a battlefield. Perhaps she simply was not used to it.

But she did notice a peculiar sight not to far from her as she came around a twisted black spire of rock and iron, shaped like a sword broken in many places. She heard a whooshing sound as a man of some kind broke through the line of wispy undead only to slam his boot into the chest of a lich with a spellbook. The spellbook went flying and landed roughly on the ground some feet away, but the lich only screamed and uttered the final words of an enervation spell.

"Males," she muttered from her standing point nearly fifty feet from the battle. Yet she watched the battle with slight interest despite her scowl, for it was the only entertainment she'd had in some time and today seemed to be duller than ever - though tha was probably just because of the place she was in. The fact that the man was human made it even more pathetic, but perhaps it would be entertaining to watch him die. Shrugging her piwafwi about her, Aradia sat on a dull, semi-smooth rock attached to the lonely spire and watched the battle unfold.

Sekeolath glanced to the side where the book fell, and then made a jumping kick to the lich's face. It connected, and with mild effort, its head went flying. Now without both sight and hearing, the lich swung its scythe around franticly.

The man smirked slightly before concentrating once more. This time, his two jet black wings sprouted from his back and propelled him upward. Sekeolath chuckled slightly before swooping down and picking the lich up with one hand and grabbing its scythe from it with the other. He then flew up a good distance and threw the undead up slightly, before slashing it in half with the scythe.

A few moments later, the now dead body landed with a splat into the ground. After that, the man came back down. "It seems he is dead....that was boring" Sekeolath said casually before walking up towards the spire-like rock formation to relax. He noticed the feminine silhouette in the shadows, but chose to leave her be, and to see what would happen.

She watched in interest as the man stopped the spell from casting as the last word was uttered, said word ending in a grunt as the lich's head flew off. It crunched into the ground like a wet ball of slime and then the man grew wings.

Aradia's eyes widened slightly at the sudden eruption of draconic wings of some sort from the man's back. This was no human, nor did those wings look the the wings of a living dragon. Either this man was a powerful magician or he was not at all human. Aradia was inclined to believe the latter thought.

Then the 'man' picked the lich up and stole its scythe. He sliced the lich in half with its own scythe and came down casually. Then he came over to where Aradia was perched. He noticed her.

"Nice move," she said, getting up. "You're no man."

She stepped over to where she could see her better and he vice versa. The clothes and armour he wore seemed as though they were too big for his form, though the armour seemed to fit well enough. Whoever - or whatever - this was, it clearly wasn't used to pretending to be human.

Sekeolath looked back slightly to see the feminine figure move towards him. He didn't move, seeing as how she didn't seem to mean any harm. He only smiled as she asked what he was using a simple statement.

"You're no man."

"You are correct, I am not one of those pathetic human males" Sekeolath spoke softly before noticing one near obvious feature of the girl. "You are drow" the man thing pointed out in Drowish matter-of-factly.

"Not only that, a noble. I am honored" Sekeolath said with a bow, respecting the drow highly for, in his eyes, obvious reasons. The man then decided to change a little, to suit both their needs.

He forced the magic to proceed, though for the last time today, then fell to his knees. His spine cracked, his body grew. He grew about two feet taller, jagged spiked forming on his body. His face reformed, taking on a dragon-like form but looked almost skeletonal. His hands turned to claws, his skin turning black like ebony.

"I am who I am, perhaps you will see the true me....perhaps not" Sekeolath smiled devilishly before continuing. "So, what is it that Lolth want on the surface? I recognize the crest, it is from the city of Lolth correct? Menzoberranzan.....I haven't been there in ages...." the man asked, not knowing what could possibly interest the spider queen that is on the surface.

As the skeletal dragon made his true form known, Aradia took a step back. Her eyes widened slightly, then settled back into their almost-bored look as she looked with pleasure on the thing. Satisfaction was a better word, actually. Yes, she was satisfied with the sight she was now observing. She had seen such creatures before. They were often bound in service to the most powerful of clerics, Matron Mothers themselves. Yet it was odd to see one on the surface. Then again, it was odd for a drow to be on the surface - yet here she was. She didn't see the need to lie to him, though. That could only get her killed.

"I am no longer a noble," she said dryly. "My house is...well, let's just say that Lolth no longer favors my name."

She knew this one would not attack her. His kind had never done so, for they respected drow clerics far too much for their own good - especially those of nobility.

"My place is here, for now - though I will return to the Underdark one day.
But for now, my place is here."

Indeed, she had been left to die in a world she must now adapt to. She only wondered what patron diety of evil or darkness might aid her here. In truth, she was seeking allies - though not expecting much.