Role

Chapter 3

Arriving at his room he told her his fetish was tying ladies up and he would pay extra. Once she was secured Baqizr
started drinking heavily to help calm his nerves for what he was about to do. At first she denied that she had ever
had a child. After cutting strips from her abdomen she changed her story quickly. She went from denial to begging
for foregiveness. Claiming not had a day had passed where she didn't regret her decision and went to bed everynight
thinking about her lost child. Things start to get a little fuzzy after that but he does remember 1 gold the price
they paid.

Waking up to the sun in his eyes, Baqizr's head was pounded and he was curled into a ball in the corner of his room
on the hard wood floor. When he stood he was greeted with a gresome sight on the bed. His mother was still tied up
huge strips of flesh were cut from all over her body and a number of fingers were cut off. The killing stroke was
a gaping slice accross her throat. Mixed emotions flooded over Baqizr, on one hand he a sense of relief came over
him yet a sense of regret and horror over what he had done. How far he had fallen from grace to commit such an act.

Baqizr started drinking early that next day, steeling his nerves for the night to come and his meeting with his
father. He felt paranoid all day, it was only a matter of time until the inn's maid went to the cleam the room
and discovered his crime. The sun rose and moved accross the sky preparing to set and Baqizr kept himself buried
in bottle after bottle of Arak. The common room of the rutting camel slowly filled up as the sunset. Eventually
his father arrived. Although he was only 200 years old, middle age for a drow the years of rough living showed.
Skin pulled tight to his face and very wrinkled he also walked with a limp.

Baqizr pulled the hood of his cloak low over his and ordered another bottle of Arak. He turned his chair to face
the stage watching the show and waiting for its end. An hour after midnight the drow bowed to his audience,
collected his instruments and slowly began limping out of the bar. Baqizr was well beyond at this point, he thought
he follow his father sly as a fox but in reality he was stumbling all over the place making alot of noise.
Walking along the street of guilds his father turned about abrutly and confronted his son. Even in the
darkness of light with the nearest torch ten feet away. A flash of recognition came to the drows eye and his jaw
dropped open. "Baqizr???? No, no it couldn't be. Please tell me it is." Tears flooded Baqizrs eyes and he began
to cry, but it did not stop him from pulling his dagger from it's sheath. Slowly he stalked foward murder in his
eyes. His father frowned at him and began to plead and ask why. Baqizr can't rememebr all the exchange due to the
alcohol induced fog on his mind but somehow a sense of sorrow changed his plans and the death he dealt was a swift one.