#rhovanor

Streets paved with Elysian gold, the skies were patrolled by all manner of creatures as the mortal realm fell under the thumb of the Great Old Ones. Ingenious automatons of Eldritch origin were produced by the Great Old Ones' manufacturing facility and it was here that countless illithids patrolled. Felandaris had lived in the Underdark for thousands of years, had battled alongside his sister Ayi'ig for centuries in their conquest to establish drow supremacy and found the great cities of their empire. He knew the tactics of these creatures, their powers, and he was well aware on what sort of psionic magic it would take to release one from the hold of another without triggering the hive mind.

Under a moonlit sky, Felandaris whispered his spell, a veil fell over Rhovanor's eyes, and when it lifted the flayed stood opposite the former architect. Mind freed, the lair far below the streets of Rome - somewhere in the Underdark that blended with the mortal realm. Not quite of the Otherworld, and not quite of this plain either, it was here that they were safest from Pelorus. The Great Old One's Radar was formidable, but it was more easily disrupted when you lingered on the boundaries between two places.

"Welcome back."

While Felandaris had little interest in the memorial itself, he had spent fifteen years sequestered away with some of the worst types of people imaginable. Heroic martyrs, bleeding hearted simpletons, woefully depressed peasants, and irrefutably repugnant commoners. Alas, it was impossible not to look at the faces of the statues and not feel something. Kaan had taught him a great deal in working together, fresh knowledge was a rare currency for him these days. Everything that Felandaris had achieved and everything that had been returned to him was owed to the sacrifices of those Six fools. Damnable idiots. Blasted heathens. Morally repugnant cretins. He wouldn't miss them, but at the very least he would remember them.

"Is freedom everything you hoped it would be?" The truth was that only the coldest of illithids found a true place in drow society, the rest were only useful in their servitude. Sending Rhovanor away was an act of kindness because for whatever he was or might have been, he was an easy target. Permitted to walk about the Court freely and he'd end up under the boot of a lowly foot soldier, or the subjugated plaything of some bored Priestess. Compassion wasn't something the Architect was known for, but it was as Rhovanor had said, they were friends. He looked briefly towards the forum, in the distance he saw the crowds gathering and could make out the outline of the statues.

The special moon time had come and so Lorenzo had been chained to a tree like his new friend Nate said they would but then they just... Never came back? Lorenzo felt... He didn't know how he felt, intelligence, emotional or otherwise had never quite been his strong suit. Confused. Hurt. Tired. Very much all three of those things and a fourth special thing that he didn't really know how to put into words yet.

"Hello-?" Lorenzo called out, man, he was so tired and his whole body hurt. The chains had held, somehow, but the footballer felt like he'd been through the ringer. He'd forgotten that his parents were taking Evan to go see some family in Sicily this weekend, but Lorenzo had a big game so he'd lied and said he would meet up with them later. This sucked, not only had he lied, but he was also going to miss his game. Enzo pulled at the chains in vain as he struggled against the tree. "Hellloooo!" Lorenzo got louder now, but as the sun disappeared from the sky, he started to lose hope.

"Can somebody help me?" There was a violent plunge in his gut, a twist as he felt his moon time coming again, he hated this, he hated himself, and he just wished he could get it to stop. Lower, more choked, Enzo pleaded into the night. "Please."

Their history wasn't complicated: Rhovanor and him had had a dynamic that was convenient on both parts. Not entirely unlike how he and Zagreus had fallen in together, Ren and Rho were close but the flighty nature of their on again and off again dynamic grew old and they'd gone their separate ways. Renfield with The Eye and Rhovanor... Wherever the eladrin had ultimately ended up. Writhing tentacles accompanied the hollowborn as he sat and watched the seraphim clowns with some delight, Azrael was an especially gifted clown. "I didn't realise you'd escaped the Court when the drow took over." Renfield supposed The Eye didn't know everything, though if he put much thought behind it then it would be an easy deduction as to what had transpired. "Are you here with anyone?"