Mercy

Nalhriir effortless stalked the small drow patrol as they trekked through the underdark. None of the three of them were aware of Nalhriir's presence, or that a drider was even stalking them. So much for how well the drow were trained, seems that they were getting sloppy. Not that Nalhriir cared much. To make things even easier, they were walking directly into an area that Nalhriir had claimed as his territory, for the time being, at least. And the drider had laid down a multitude of webbing all around to alert him of the presence of prey. It was one of those webbing that they had stepped on that had originally alerted him to their position. 

How unlucky for them. 

As he stalked he quietly brandished his crossbow from the makeshift pack on his back and aimed it at one of the scouts. 

He had taken the precaution to lace the tips of his arrows in his own, paralytic venom. So a simple scratch would put them down for at least twenty moments, perhaps more depending on how much venom got into their body. 

With a light cracking noise, he shot an arrow that found its target deep into one of the scout's neck, felling him instantly. The remaining scout and warrior spun around looking for the source of the attack. 

Nalhriir chuckled. They didn't think to look above them. He sat quite comfortably on a cliff face about 70 feet above the small scouting party. Nalhriir aimed his crossbow once more and  shot another arrow and took the other scout out, the arrow hitting him in the back. The scout crumpled to the ground paralyzed. 

"Come out, coward!" The warrior yelled looking around wildly. 

Feeling feisty, Nalhriir decided to oblige. He dropped from the cliff face he had been clinging to land behind of the warrior. 

"Here I am," he grinned. A feral, wild and hungry look in Nalhriir's eyes. He intended to eat well that night once this was over. 

"Fucking drider!" The warrior sneered as he spun around, readying his short sword. He charged at Nalhriir who dodged and parried his attack with his front most legs. His chitin was strong enough that he wasn't too worried about a short sword. At least not in that moment. 

The blade clanged harmlessly against the limb. 

The drow warrior growled and lunged at him again, making Nalhriir rear back and attempt to stab a front most leg through the drow's torso. 

The warrior dodged and Nalhriir gripped one of his poison tipped arrows from his pack, brandishing it much like one would a dagger in a clawed hand. He lunged at the warrior and swiped at his neck with the arrow. Hoping to knick the drow's skin, even just a bit and that would be enough for his venom to go to work. 

In the back of Nalhriir's mind, there was a nagging spark of recognition for this drow, he had seen him somewhere before. But as to where, he wasn't sure. But the haze of hunger and feral instincts quickly buried the spark and any feeling of recognition. This warrior was prey, and that was all his mind and instincts focused on. 

The two danced around each other in a seemingly never ending game as the two tried to land a hit on each other. And luckily for Nalhriir, he found his mark. He was able to actually dig the arrow into the warrior's exposed shoulder and then sweep his legs out from under him with one of his front legs. 

The warrior hit the ground hard, landing on his leg wrong as he did and twisting it awkwardly under him. The venom did its work quickly and soon the drow warrior was unable to move or so much as twitch a finger. He was only able to watch Nalhriir stalk around him and speak if he so wished to.

Nalhriir retrieved his crossbow from his back and chuckled darkly as he leveled it at the warrior's head, fully intending to kill him quickly, but that spark of recognition that had been gnawing at the back of his mind came back full force and Nalhriir's eyes widened as he suddenly realized why he recognized this warrior. He laughed, his mouth opening a bit too wide and showing hints of the large spider fangs in the back of his mouth. 

"Pharius? My, my, my! What a sight for sore eyes! It's been what? A little over two centuries?" He asked lowering his crossbow. Not worried about his brother moving much or retrieving his sword with his venom coursing though Pharius' veins 

"How do you...?" Pharius said slowly, focusing on the drider's face. After a moment he finally recognized Nalhriir's face even with the extra eyes and much longer hair. "Nalhriir?!" 

"The one and only," he replied giving an exaggerated bow. 

"You're still alive?! How did you survive out here? The last time I say you, you could barely fight!" The older drow asked in disbelief. 

"It's amazing what 260 years in hell will do to a person." Nalhriir sneered. "I've had to fend for myself, of course I know how to fight and defend myself! I'm not that weak, pathetic little whelp you once knew. I've changed. Had to change." He all but spat the words out. 

"I should simply just kill you for how you treated me back then."  He hissed, raising his crossbow once more. As he stared into Pharius' maroon eyes, he saw something there he had never seen on him before; fear. Pharius was afraid, no doubt of Nalhriir. But for some reason the look of fear in his bother's eyes brought a churning feeling to his gut, and Nalhriir found himself unable to pull the trigger. He released an annoyed chittering sound as he lowered his crossbow and sneered. "Be thankful that I pity you. I won't kill you, I'll let you live. The other two though," Nalhriir gestured to where the paralyzed and dead scouts lay, "I intend on drinking my fill. I did go through all that trouble to take them out, after all. You're still paralyzed and will be for the next 20 minutes, so you won't bother me while I eat." He retuned the crossbow to his pack and walked with purpose over to where his prey sat. Once he would have been very self conscious at the thought of someone else watching him eat in this form, but the centuries had jaded him. And now he simply did not care. 

Having two stomachs, Nalhriir required a lot of blood to survive, and these two scouts would be perfect to satiate his hunger. And satiate that they did, in about ten minutes, Nalhriir was done eating. He dropped the drained corpse to the ground and sighed deeply, blood smeared across his face and lips. 

"You're a monster." Pharius hissed from the spot he laid. A deep look of disgust on the man's face. 

"I'm nothing more than the monster our family and that spider bitch made me." Nalhriir replied simply. He ran his tongue over his lips and chuckled. "My venom should wear off for you soon, and then you're free to go. If you can move that leg, that is. And don't ever cross paths with me again," Nalhriir warned, his main set of eyes narrowing. "I will not be merciful a second time." 

Pharius was silent, his fingers beginning to twitch again. Nalhriir was aware that he would need to put distance between him and his older brother before the paralysis completely wore off. But seeing how Pharius most likely injured his leg by how he had fallen on it, Nalhriir doubted that he would be able to catch up with him. Either way, Nalhriir glanced back at his bother one last time before he quickly skittered away, belly full and a little more than annoyed that he had run into someone from his past. His older brother, of all people.