Forgotten Realms 1. Prologue

**The Mark**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

Author's Note: "The Mark" has no connection to my previous plotlines from "The Lesser Evil," "Midsummer," "Siren's Cry," or their related stories and is its own plot.

This story will contain a graphic description of body alteration. Reader discretion is advised.

**6 of Mirtul, 1473 The Year of Risen Ghosts**

**The Glimmerwood**

His neck stiffened for a moment in protest, his nerves knowing that the second he laid his head down on the sweet smelling barley pillow he had sealed his fate.

Drizzt gave a nervous smile in spite of himself, taking a deep breath and relaxing. The soft crunching of barley against cotton pressed down by the back of his head soon followed. He made his choice a tenday ago, it was best to have the experience lest the fear make him spring from the bench he laid upon now.

Sage burned around him, its sweet smell putting him at ease for a moment knowing what he was about to do was purely symbolic of this commitment. It was a far reaching tradition, after all; a tradition in which he had been invited to take part by a group known for remaining hidden from the world.

Drizzt didn't want to pry his gaze away from the garlands of flowers strung above him, though his purple eyes moved from its frozen spot to those who had become some of his closest comrades in too long.

They formed a ring around him, red eyes looking at him in curiosity though there were some looks of sympathy among this mass of unusual drow. Drizzt counted around twenty keepers of the grove surrounded him; their usual woodland leathers and weather beaten tunics in another location as all were bare to the waist. Twenty sets of hardened muscles and lithe forms stood around him, heads of white hair in their usual state of dishevelment or bearing messing ponytails or chopped spikes.

All of them were male, all of them were like him; drow who lived their lives by the rules of the wilderness. All were of different creeds and philosophies, but they had become his friends.

At last he had found drow like him, a miracle in itself. He had actually found a group of drow with principals that closely matched his own; they were not perfect, though they were not wicked like how he has associated his kin. Maybe the past hundred years of personal change, maybe having Tos'un Armgo as a friend changed him. Maybe spending the 90 years after the Spellplague as a lonely wanderer finally made him give in no matter what race his friends would be.

It was a fact that made this decision a bit easier, though no less terrifying.

A smoldering stick of sage danced in the air around him, covering his naked form in the purifying smoke. Drizzt's eyes trailed over to Tsabrak, who wore a robe made from an old bedsheet as he chanted blessings over him. Tsabrak Belthizz was the closest thing to a priest this village had, though he was more of a shaman; a fact that did make Drizzt feel a bit easier. He was not dealing with a priest of the fallen Vhaeraun or an acolyte of the deeply mourned Eilistraee; he was simply a man of nature.

Tsabrak put the smudge on a shell on a small table beside him, putting a few of the burning ashes in another container that lit up with a small, blue flame. The instrument he picked up next only made Drizzt's fear return with a vengeance. 

He took a few more deep breaths, steeling his nerves. He had made his decision a tenday ago; backing out now would be an insult to himself and the closest comrades he had in too long. 

Drizzt looked up, seeing a mass of stringy white hair in the group that hung over a series of deep scars; one eye red the other pink from an old injury. He smiled at the old drow who had become his mentor of sorts.

It was a title he did not give easily, a sure sign he knew he was doing the right thing.

"Drizzt Do'Urden," Tsabrak said. "Is it your wish to continue the initiation into the Brotherhood? Now is your last chance to back away." 

"I have made my choice," Drizzt said. "I come with an open mind and an open heart."

He had made this decision a tenday ago. This is crazy, his mind still screamed at him, though he knew what to expect.

Tsabrak leaned down with the instrument in hand, the other hand with a cloth bathed in witch-hazel. 

Drizzt smiled, looking up at the trees. He was surprised he didn't flinch when feeling the unguent spread on his flesh; now feeling ready for what would come next. 

A white-hot pain burst through his skin. He took a breath, neck muscles straining and teeth clenched as the pain seared through his skin. 

He wanted to scream, though only breathed deeper. The pain was cleansing, he had been told; it was a point of focus, of mediation to bring oneself closer to the spirit while having that commitment marked in his flesh.

Drizzt wringed his hands, meeting the gazes of all his friends before looking at old Gabe, who gave him an encouraging smile.

The fire disappeared, replaced by a throbbing ache. Drizzt's muscles relaxed as he gave off a series of panting breaths.

He dared look down, seeing his flesh altered; bearing the mark of his adopted people.

He gave a laugh, knowing he had made the best decision.


	2. Part 2

The Mark

**The Mark**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

Author's Note: Since the ultimate fates of Vhaeraun and Eilistraee have not been officially revealed (yes, I maintain Vhaeraun's fate is currently unknown and will not debate that) in current canon as well as the ultimate fates of the Companions of the Hall, the story is based on my own version of how events played out and is likely different for how things will play out in canon.

**27 of Uktar, 1472 The Year of the Queen**

**The Glimmerwood**

**Six months earlier**

_To Lord Hralien and the elders of the Moonwood does Drizzt Do'Urden send greetings._

_My appointed task of reconnaissance and guardianship of the sacred forest is near complete and I bring preliminary findings that might be either cause for relief or alarm. I am, however, just one messenger and further exploration will likely be needed._

_I easily found the settlement of dark elves everyone in the forest has whispered about with curiosity at best and anger at worse. You personally asked me to spy on this band, using my rather dated knowledge of my own kind to determine this group's motivations and reasons for their sudden settlement on the northeast side of the Glimmerwood. I remember a time in ancient history we would have immediately met such a group head on with raised weapons, first assuming they were Underdark raiders or the ever malicious followers of the Masked Lord while hoping they were the goodly children of Eilistraee or perhaps something of another kinder sort. Vhaeraun and Eilistraee killed each other a century ago, according to all the learned "sages," and I can personally tell you Lolthite raiders are rare and do not leave themselves out in the open and only linger long enough to leave behind as much fear and carnage as possible. So what of this group?_

_I easily found the band and not by a trail of blood or bodies. I counted around fifty members of this group; all full blooded drow males. For three tendays I slipped in with the trees and quietly observed their actions. From what I have observed their actions have been nothing but peaceful. They train their weapons with dedication to their craft and not in preparation for war. In fact I have observed them playing cards, making music on instruments, and engaging in casual conversation. I believe the most hostile action I have seen from them involved hunting game animals. I have also not seen any religious rites or even anyone who wears the obvious garb of a cleric._

_I believe I am sound in my conclusion that this band of dark elves is no more than a simple settlement and the denizens, at least at the outset, appear to be peaceful and wanting nothing more than establish a life in the forest. I have no idea if these males are Underdark outcasts or the wayward followers of a dead god or goddess. Perhaps they are the followers of another deity or cause, though that is all speculation._

_Take my words as you will and should you require further investigation that decision is yours to make. I will return to the elders within the next tenday and can answer any further inquiries there._

* * *

Drizzt's lavender eyes gazed out at the wide space before him, keeping completely still. He was the silent watcher now as he had been for the past three tendays, or perhaps for the better part of his life; standing still, becoming one with the tree on which he leaned and merely observing the mass of drow a few hundred feet in front of him.

Drizzt's last correspondence to Hralien and the elves of the Moonwood was already in the talons of a carrier hawk and was likely in the hands of the elders by now. He had done his duty, he had made his report, and he should have been back on the trails.

The elves would eagerly await the story and he knew there were a few more groups of Night Riders crawling around the wood preparing for their next round of havoc against the orcs. Then there was the matter of a large birthday dinner for Doum'wielle, son of Tos'un occurring in just a few days that Drizzt would be hard pressed to miss.

It was a long list of realities that played through Drizzt's mind repeatedly and cried at him to finally sneak away from his post, though he remained still and found a more comfortable position against the tree.

He had already completed this reconnaissance mission and in his mind there was nothing more to do. The drow settlers had been nothing but peaceful, though most creatures, no matter what their race, would come out with claws bared when discovering an intruder or a spy in their territory. He wished no quarrel and knew a quarrel was likely what he would have if found.

Maybe it would be a way to finally put an end to his maddening curiosity once and for all. It was a thought he had to give himself despite how much he wanted to pretend such was not the case.

Drizzt had spent his whole life despising his own race, though always kept some glistens of hope there were others like him; drow with compassion and principles who were not dark marauders.

Zaknafein planted that hope in his mind, Jarlaxle gave him further cause to dream, and Tos'un proved redemption was possible for the race of the dark elves.

The rise of Eilistraee's power gave Drizzt that ultimate satisfaction for one shining moment in history. The followers of the Dark Lady has once been a legend, though the legend was proven reality as Eilistraeen diplomats crossed into the Moonwood a century ago with tidings of redemption; the evil Vhaeraun had been slain and his Nightshadows had been brought over to the light.

For once in his life, Drizzt finally knew not all drow were wicked; there was a larger shining beacon of hope of a goodly, peaceful existence for his own kind. Though as soon as hope was found it was shattered; the Eilistraeens would disappear from the forest, though many would die in fits of madness. Eilistraee had taken Vhaeraun's essence, though it corrupted her pure spirit. The bright goddess would be consumed by the shadows and easily fell at Lolth's hand.

The hope of the goodly drow was shattered, a precursor to a series of hopes Drizzt had held so dear for most of his life.

Drizzt sighed at the recollection. A century ago it would have made him fall down and weep to consider all that happened, though a century hence the pain still cut through him sharp as a fresh wound. He told himself a hundred years ago he would not fall into despair over the inevitable losses he would have, the curse of a lifespan of centuries. The way it all played out was hardly inevitable.

Wulfgar was the first to fall, being cut down in the fall of Luskan and dying in Drizzt's arms. Drizzt would return to Mithral Hall to find Catti-brie near death; the Spellplague cutting through her newly found connection to the Weave and breaking her psyche.

She didn't die like the other mages nor did she completely lose her mind. Her faculties would never be the same after that, going from bouts of seeming normality to deep depression to violent mania. Drizzt would care for her for twenty-five years before her failing health finally let her know eternal peace.

Drizzt allowed himself a few months to wander before having to look after Bruenor. His age, the death of his adopted daughter, and the weight of kingship took his health from him. Drizzt would aid him for another ten years and help him choose an heir and he would watch his old dwarf friend pass to Moradin after spending hours by his bedside.

Drizzt spent the next ten years wandering with Regis, though spending all their time knowing the halfling too had advanced in years. The ranger would last see his friend in Icewind Dale when he left him in the care of a distant cousin in Lonelywood. Five years later, Drizzt would receive a letter in Moonwood with news of his old friend's passing.

It had been forty years since he lost his last companion and the loneliness had only slightly dulled. He had told himself countless times over the course of his time with the Companions that he would outlive all of them. At one point he had made complete peace with that fact, though he could never prepare for the heartbreak of how it all happened.

Then again he could have never foreseen the Spellplague; he could have never known how the world would be destroyed by a series of horrific events and left in such a raw state that everything grew from the ashes.

Drizzt took another long breath; hoping that allowing himself all these thoughts would provide a small measure of relief compounded with the place he was in now. Drizzt knew he was a different creature than he was a century ago though not in the way he wanted to be. He was now 175-years-old, still a young man in elven terms though he would come of age in the midst of tragedy when he spent the greater part of his adolescence surrounded by the greatest friends he would ever know. At a youth he was stoic and serious though thought he would learn to live fully by his 100th birthday. As an adult, however, he was perpetually bitter; the Hunter peeking out more than he ever intended and the drow himself showing a less than friendly demeanor to most people even those few now he considered allies.

He had tailed several different groups with several different aims and creeds over the course of his last forty years; a convenient job for the elders of Moonwood and various municipalities to give him with payment in his own valor. Drizzt had always taken such tasks willingly though lately he was feeling a bit used as if he lived his life to be an errand boy for a bunch of bureaucrats. At one point in history he savored the task; that was in the days when Bruenor and Alustriel were still alive.

Drizzt shifted his weight against the tree, looking around at the wide clearing around him. He had tailed this particular group in absolute silence for the past three tendays as an assignment, though the past few days had been voluntary and for his own purposes.

This group of drow had been nothing but civil; a group of his kin he secretly hoped he could relate to at last. He knew this traveling group of waywards might not take his presence kindly, though he could not ignore the burning desire at the pit of his stomach that made him continue his course if only to see where it lead. He would accept whatever end, even if that end meant drawn swords or a noose.

For the past few days he had not even bothered to hide himself, first finding minimal cover then eventually creeping out into the open. His position now was behind a tree in the middle of a shallow clearing a few hundred feet from the village. He was concealed by shallow brush, though could be easily spotted by a patrol or anyone paying attention to the area. Approaching them could have been easier, though for some reason a certain degree of passivity was only appropriate. Drizzt was willing to hand himself over to any fate and it was only now he could admit to himself that level of complete despair.

"Kindly please step out into the brush with your hands visible," the inevitable voice said behind him in a melodious tone of perfectly accented Common.

Drizzt smiled, hoping it would come to this. He slowly raised both his hands and casually turned around to face his likely captors.

Two male drow stood in front of him in woodland leathers. Each guard held a single drawn longsword with points aimed at the ground and not at the intruder. Drizzt smiled, knowing these dark elves were different indeed.

"You have been seen keeping a post around our village for the past three days," the guard continued. "State your purpose and don't think you can try anything."

Drizzt bowed in response, keeping his hands up.

"I was sent here on a reconnaissance mission from the Moonwood," Drizzt said, feeling it was best to have the truth out especially if this group was truly peaceful. "Reports of your company have spread around the forest and reached the ears of the elven elders. I was sent to determine if your company is friend or foe."

The two guards looked at each other and nodded. Drizzt noted how their facial features considerably relaxed when he spoke; their own speech was likely a way to see if he understood Common. His own mastery of Common with all Menzoberranzyr accents flushed from him ages ago likely gave him more credibility as something besides an Underdark scout.

"Our company is in a rather precarious position at the moment," the guard said. "I am sure your story carries credence. However, we cannot let you go for reasons I am sure you understand."

"The last thing you need is an invasion after letting someone go who you thought was legitimate," Drizzt said with a nod. "If such is the case, I wish to speak to the leader of your company. Lord Hralien will also be hardly reassured by merely my word and I am sure, if you do desire peace, it would be best if your leader has some dialogue with the elven elders. I know they will grant your people an audience if your desire is coexistence or perhaps trade."

The leader nodded, giving a basic signal to the other soldier. The second guard walked over to Drizzt and grabbed his hands, pulling them behind his back and putting a firm hand on his shoulder. Drizzt allowed the restraint, watching as the first guard predictably sheathed his sword and patted him down.

He unbuckled his weapon belt and put it on the ground, also removing a hunting knife he kept in his boot and putting it in the pile. Taulmaril, his heatseeking bow, and quiver full of explosive arrows were soon off as well. The leader patted his hips again as if to recheck an area and Drizzt knew he was likely relieved to not find a concealed hand crossbow on his person.

The guard then reached under the neckline of his chain shirt and nodded when finding a few chains. Drizzt raised his eyebrows slightly with how thorough this check was, knowing exactly what they were looking for. The guard first pulled up his neckpurse and looked inside, nodding when not finding a House Insignia.

The guard pulled up the second chain, his face in shocked surprise when seeing the pendant. Drizzt did see discreet smile form at the corners of his mouth as he gently held the knucklehead carving of a unicorn head Regis had given to him a long time ago in a much happier time. Recognition was clearly on the face of the guard, who glanced up at his companion with a slightly amazed look.

The guard nodded and the second soldier let go of Drizzt and gently nudged him forward.

"We must take you into our village unarmed, it is merely a precaution," the leader said.

"Your position is too precarious," Drizzt said with a nod, "I completely understand."

"Though I am very sure our leader will be very interested to meet you," the guard said, signaling for Drizzt and the other soldier to follow him.

Drizzt gave a cursory glance behind him, noticing the soldier sheathing his sword though remaining vigilant. Drizzt merely looked ahead and shrugged.

* * *

He had spied on this group from the shadows for the past three tendays, assuming he would know what to expect if allowed a much more intimate vantage point. All assumptions were scattered to the winds as the experience itself was far more enlightening.

Drizzt's lead guard did a cursory glance back to make sure he was keeping up. Drizzt managed to pull his gaze from the mass of drow around him to look at the leader with a nod and a small smile.

The last time he was surrounded by so many drow was during the Battle of Mithral Hall and Menzoberranzan before that. His horrific memories put him in a slight state of unease with all the masses of black flesh and white hair around him; red eyes looking on him in curiosity or just glancing at him before going to their usual business.

Drizzt walked down a forest path he had traversed many, many times. This time, however, the patches of trees and brush on both sides now bore a series of wood and canvas lean-tos. Various campfires burned around him with the smells of roasting boar, wild turkey, and rabbit greeting his nose at different points along the path.

The sound of clashing steel caught his attention and he looked farther afield to see the longswords of two drow clashing in a light sparring match. Seeing smiles on both opponents' faces nearly stopped Drizzt in his tracks. He took another glance at the path under him before looking back at the two and seeing one speaking to the other while moving his sword in a direction that was matched by his opponent, who disengaged and put the sword to his opponent's neck. The hairs on the back of Drizzt's neck stood up, knowing where this was going to go. Instead he went numb as he saw the second swordsman lightly tap the blade aside with a smile and a laugh before patting the other drow on the back.

Drizzt nearly tripped on his feet at the sight, pulling his gaze away immediately as a series of painful memories threatened to take hold; painful, yet happy memories of a time long forgotten and a series of ideals that were shoved in his face. Maybe there was some hope.

Drizzt kept his eyes on the path though could not miss seeing two drow stick skewers into a roasting rabbit on the fire and exchanging light debate on whether or not it was fully cooked.

Just in walking these last few hundred yards, he had seen more camaraderie and civility from one group of drow than he had ever seen in his existence. The pervading sense of tension he had felt whenever in the presence of other drow was nonexistent. The air was peppered with laughs and light conversation and not sneers and whispers. Here there were drow working with each other and lacking a gaze of malice or scheming while doing so.

There's probably more to this than you're seeing, Drizzt thought to himself, a thought putting his eyes back to the path and his senses everywhere. It had to be a front, or at least the airs of civility had to cover for a far more gruesome reality. He relaxed at the thought and kicked himself at the same time for his pessimism.

The point guard cut across a clearing in the field, nodding at Drizzt and his companion to follow. More drow beside them looked on him curiously and he did hear a few whispers as he passed by. So the plotting begins, he thought; and immediately regretted thinking.

The guard's path wound around a large oak tree and into a clearing where no lean-tos or campfires stood. Drizzt looked back at the guard in back of him, becoming slightly nervous at the increasing isolation from the other drow in the group.

A slight sense of relief and simultaneous unease came over him at seeing another cluster of drow gathered around a large bush of wild blueberries. His apprehension was suddenly washed away by an awareness that made itself steadily known.

Drizzt looked around, his natural elven sense for magic tingling; he had just crossed into a center of earth power. It was not an overwhelming power, not a sense of the presence of a node or a portal. This was strong, yet hospitable earth power Drizzt had felt before and taught by Montolio to recognize for the sake of hospitality and respect.

Drizzt's sense of fear was replaced by surging curiosity as he sensed the power that radiated from a druid's grove.

He took a closer look into the group of drow surrounding the blueberry bush, seeing seven gathered around the bush listening to a discussion lead by a an older looking drow in a broad brimmed straw hat and fine hair that hung down from all sides like clumps of silk string. His form was encased in baggy farmer's clothes, yet Drizzt saw the hint of a warrior's physique outlined by the rough cotton tunic and wool vest.

The drow spoke to the in perfectly accented Common with a proper, melodious tone describing some of the healing properties of each part of the blueberry bush. His appearance, however, suggested someone more on the rugged side than his manner of speech would suggest, though it was hardly Drizzt's place to judge anyone.

Drizzt took a more careful look and saw one of his red eyes was pink, corresponding with a series of long scars over the top right side of his face that looked like they had been done with a set of claws. His face bore other scars, giving him a rough appearance though Drizzt saw a calm in his eyes he had never seen in any other drow.

The mismatched eyes casually trailed towards Drizzt's in a curious gaze. The drow's face suddenly bore a look of puzzlement that Drizzt soon saw as recognition which could have been to his boon or bane in this situation.

The drow wrapped up his lecture, breaking off a series of small branches with two blueberries each and handing them to each. The group soon scattered, exchanging a few pleasant words with the leader before Drizzt's two guards walked closer.

"Greetings, boys," the scarred drow said. "I see you have brought a guest."

"Indeed we have," the point guard said. "This is the one we have seen skulking around the trees with his eyes on our camp. He said he is an emissary of Moonwood."

"And you have cause not to believe him and assume he is a marauder acting on behest of some Matron?" the leader replied in a mildly sarcastic tone.

"He does wear a symbol of Mielikki," the guard said, "which means he is likely a true man of the wood, though caution is always the best course.

"Well let's see our intruder," the leader said, walking up to Drizzt and carefully looking him over.

"We found these on him," the guard said, holding up Drizzt's weapon belt and bow. "I will say if he knows how to use both these swords in one fight, such is an unusual talent for a Surfacer, even a recent refugee."

The older drow looked over the weapon belt, eyes carefully examining Twinkle, then Icingdeath as that look of curious familiarity returned to his face before he looked back at Drizzt. The leader took the weapon belt and bow from the hands of the guard.

"Leave him with me," he said. "I will get to the bottom of this mystery."

The guard nodded, looking at his companion with a shrug before walking away. Drizzt did see lingering glances of wariness before the two turned the corner around a thicket of trees and were out of sight.

The older drow handed the weapon belt and bow back to Drizzt, who slung the bow on one shoulder while strapping his belt back on.

"You're not concerned that I'll draw blades and deliver your head to the highest bidder?" Drizzt asked.

"I know you won't," the drow said in a matter-of-fact tone. "In fact I have been hoping you and I would cross paths sometime soon."

"You know who I am?"

"Your reputation has traveled far in this wood," the drow said. "I would say I know your name, though I want to hear you say it."

Drizzt smiled, this dark elf's casual demeanor was just a pleasure to be around.

"Very well, I am Drizzt Do'Urden," Drizzt said with a bow.

The other drow smiled wide and clasped his forearm.

"Gab'vrith Frzelln," he said, "though everyone just calls me Gabe. Well met Master Drizzt; I have every reason to believe you are what you have said you are."

"The elders of Moonwood have been greatly curious about your band," Drizzt said with a large sigh of relief.

"Curious or nervous?"

"A bit of both. A group of drow this large who keeps out in the open is rather unusual for the Glimmerwood, especially in recent years."

"Yes the elven elders lost all two major labels for us when two certain god forces died," Gabe said with a smirk. "Now we're just a curiosity, which is fine by me. I take it that's why you have been supposedly skulking around our village."

"Identifying all possible threats and allies to the Moonwood has been Lord Hralien's major project in the past hundred years," Drizzt said, feeling more and more comfortable in the presence of this drow by the minute. "Old threats die or turn ally while old allies disappear or become threats themselves."

"Ever since the world went topsy turvy, completely understood," Gabe said. "It is such a reason that brings our band to this forest; our numbers were small before the war in the Demonweb, though after the Masked Lord and Lady tore each other apart we went from a small family to a full on community. I will be completely honest in telling you this group here is only a tenth of our full numbers."

Drizzt gave a profound blink, his slight discomfort returning. Was Gabe stating a fact or making a threat? Every possibility had to be considered.

"What exactly is the mission and purpose of your group," Drizzt asked.

Gabe smiled and gave a small chuckle.

"Walk with me," he said, turning around and walking toward another cleared path around the trees.

Drizzt shrugged and walked along side him, the two walking slightly further from the village. Drizzt's hands were casually on his hips, though he was on high alert to know when to draw.

The two walked for a few hundred feet, Gabe leading them up a steep, rocky hill he agilely walked up with Drizzt following close behind. A few moments later, they were overlooking the entire village.

For the first time, Drizzt fully saw the scope wide expanse this group used for their camp. He mentally multiplied the area by ten and nodded at the realization.

"All these drow you see here, Master Drizzt, are waywards," Gabe said. "Most served a cause at some point in time, though that cause has cast them out or died. A few are the children of waywards, some have never seen a cavern or a mass of glowing fungus their entire lives, many have only seen the sunlight for a few decades. We call ourselves The Brotherhood; a collective of drow who live by our own creeds and philosophies and not those imposed on us by the major factions."

Drizzt's eyes widened, though this all sounded too good to be true.

"None of you were Eilistraeens, Vhaeraunites?" Drizzt asked.

"Many of us were and even before those two died we allowed anyone of any creed to enter our village," Gabe said. "Eilistraeens, Vhaeraunites, whatever; just check your ideology at the outer perimeter and live in harmony with your brothers, that's all we cared about. More accepted other creeds; we have Gondsmen, Maskarrans, followers of most of the elf deities, and many of us walk the path of nature like yourself."

Drizzt stared at Gabe, taken a slightly aback by what he was hearing. Gabe gave him a smile and reached under his tunic, pulling out a pendant of an oak leaf carefully preserved in an encasing of natural resin. Drizzt slowly nodded, immediately recognizing the shape and position of the leaf as the symbol of Silvanus; the Forest Father.

"You are the druid of this grove," Drizzt said with a nod.

"Nothing gets past you," Gabe said, his grin wider. "And you are a ranger who walks with Lady of the Forest. I am sure you never thought you would ever meet another drow who walks a similar path."

Drizzt pulled his unicorn pendant from his tunic, proudly displaying it while trying to digest all he was hearing. Gabe smiled and nodded at the pendant.

"I am sure you have gone most of your existence thinking you were the only drow ranger to stride through a forest," Gabe said. "You are, however, hardly a unique creature in that respect. Our race has taken root in the forests for hundreds of years and found the power of the wood, or at least found how to survive in it. You are unique in the respect you have not served the two major deities.

Another thought went through Drizzt's head that slightly dulled this moment of pure validated bliss. There had to be a catch to this somewhere, and Drizzt quickly thought of the way he was right.

"You allow all creeds into your village," Drizzt said. "Though there is one creed that would likely hunt your company down."

"And her minions have on many occasion," Gabe said with a nod of understanding. "A few of our brothers have died due to such hunts, and sometimes infiltrators. Rest assured the Spider Kissers in all their forms are barred from our collective."

"By experience or word of mouth," Drizzt said, having to have all the answers before allowing himself any happy illusions.

"We are waywards, Master Drizzt," Gabe said. "We have been since the beginning."

Gabe gave Drizzt a pained look, indicating there was a greater story to tell. Drizzt looked at him patiently, waiting to hear whatever he had to say.

"There were five of us in the beginning," Gabe said, looking out at the mass of drow below them. "All of us the so-called elite warriors of a low House in Ched Nasad. The exact details are meaningless, though we were pawns in a perpetual power struggle between the House Matron and Elderboy. We were his little brute squad, though the party ended for us the second he was assassinated. The five of us were imprisoned, tortured, though never killed of course; the Matron and First Daughter wanted to prolong our suffering by letting us live as ranking guards, though forever marking us as outcasts, humiliating us.

"That ostracism only made us angrier, banded us together more. A year after our 'punishment,' the five of us ran from the House and joined a mercenary company. In our travels outside Lolth's realm, we eventually did meet up with a band of Vhaeraunites who told us all about the 'Night Above.' We found ourselves on the High Forest in a short time. Some of us became Vhaeraunites, some of us entered Eilistraee's service. My brother Hennil and I saw both and decided neither impressed us. We started our own encampment and subtly spread the word to other disaffected males they were welcome at our fire. Two became ten became fifty over the century. More and more males joined us to do nothing more than make a living and exist on the Surface in a completely independent life apart from the deities that enslaved them more than freed them from Lolth."

Drizzt held his tongue after this one comment, wondering how allegiance to one of those powers, a goodly goddess with the aim of redeeming the drow, could be considered "enslavement," though there was likely a defendable reason for that somehow. His purpose was to listen and any questions about this group's principles could wait for a more suitable occasion.

"I can only imagine the deaths of those deities created the need for a safe harbor," Drizzt said.

"Males flocked to our encampment the night after Vhaeraun was destroyed," Gabe said with a nod. "The priests told us of his death that very night. Worshipping the long-hated goddess who slew their Lord was not an option for many and they simply floated to us. Within a year we numbered around 200 and more males arrived at our camp, spurning the 'Masked Lady' Eilistraee had become. That was another fifty, and when Vhaeraun's essence destroyed Eilistraee, a few hundred more sought us out.

"The numbers have of course fluctuated over the century, though we are around 500 strong. Hennil is himself a druid and leads the band in the High Forest. With our growing numbers and increased word of the trade strength of the North, it was only fitting for us to branch out, not stay in one place and tax its resources. If you are indeed an emissary from Moonwood, I personally would wish an audience with Lord Hralien to communicate our peaceful presence and openness to trade."

Drizzt nodded, satisfied with the story he had heard. If the whole purpose of the group was a series of lies, they were certainly of a grand scale.

"From what I have seen already, your men are not readying for war," Drizzt said. "So I trust your word."

Gabe chuckled and stepped back, crossing his arms. His gaze fell on Drizzt's face and Drizzt could feel those mismatched eyes boring through him.

"You still doubt us," Gabe said.

"I do not mean…" Drizzt started before Gabe waved his hand as if dismissing the concern.

"An hour in our village is not going to erase a few hundred years of instincts," Gabe said. "Drow are bastards; I know that, you know that, every one of our own kind knows that. We, however, can only hope to do something better with our lives than continue that curse. I will only ask that you stay a while, stay for dinner. It won't be enough for you to trust us, though I will guarantee a few more hours with us will put your mind at ease a bit more. I would rather you walk back to Lord Hralien confident of our purpose than with a single doubt in your heart that we mean ill."

Drizzt gave an embarrassed chuckle, looking back out at the village below him. What difference did a few hours make. If he had to draw blades, so be it. He was intrigued enough to give The Brotherhood a chance.

"I believe I have no choice but to accept your invitation," Drizzt said with a small bow.

Gabe laughed and reached for his belt. A round disc flew into the air toward Drizzt, who caught it on instinct. For a moment he regretted his action, though saw no effect beside the disc falling into his hand and remaining there peacefully. He looked down, feeling only a small trace of magic in the item. The coin-shaped object was made from hard clay. Drizzt examined it carefully and saw a series of symbols painted on it; the image of a sword crossed with an arrow and loosely wrapped with a vine connecting it to what looked like a wand.

"That is the ticket to our village," Gabe said. "Put that in your neckpurse and keep it carefully hidden. That will be your entrance for the next six months."

"What happens after six months," Drizzt asked.

"The image will fade and it will radiate a magic that will tell the guard it has expired," Gabe said. "You will have no need of such an emblem if you are formally initiated into our circle; all members will just know who you are, no other magic needed."

Drizzt took another look at the coin before cautiously placing it in his neckpurse. This was a curious arrangement, though one he would play along with for now.

"So what's for dinner," Drizzt said, looking out at the village.


	3. Part 3

The Mark

**The Mark**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

**27 of Ches 1473 The Year of Risen Ghosts**

**The Glimmerwood**

_There have been those rare light moments in the darkness that has been the last forty years of my existence, perhaps my own "Points of Light" in the rugged wilderness my existence has become. Darkness has prevailed in my life for the past few years though the actual number of those "few" years is something that pains me to think on. I would like to think that period of darkness has ended, or at least paused for a moment to give light a chance to shine forth._

_For the first time in too long I feel as if I have a cause and a purpose in my life instead of a series of tasks. It had even gotten to the point where the everyday accomplishment of my deeds and principles was not enough to keep my mind focused and my purpose motivated; a truly tragic point indeed in my life. The knowledge of this reality only put me further into despair._

_That despair has been lifted and I feel my purpose renewed, a spark ironically set by a group of drow. I have lived to separate myself from my kin, though I have found, by a miracle of the gods, a group of my kin that have been a reflection of my purpose. I never imagined drow were capable of such honor and camaraderie as I have seen in the Brotherhood._

_In the past four months I have made it a point to visit the village as often as my duties and the harsh winter weather will allow me. In the beginning it was a matter of feeling them out, determining if they were respectable and not a threat. My bond grew the more I visited and I more saw them as friends than simply associates or even subjects to watch._

_When I arranged a meeting between Gab'vrith and his druid apprentices and Lord Hralien and the elders of Moonwood, I felt I was introducing one group of friends to another. It has elated me to see the elves and the drow of the Brotherhood regularly come to each other's aid; trading their wares freely and aiding each other over the long winter when both would have faced many more challenges alone. I have had the pleasure of seeing a group of drow accepted by the elves, a reality I have been honored to see in my lifetime._

_Through all this I have found allies among my kin. In the past four months I now know every member of the village by name and history. I have met fellow refugees from Menzoberranzan and heard so many stories similar to my own. I have met drow from the other cities raised under other deities, and I have heard stories from those who have spent their whole lives on the Surface and were born under the sun or stars. All have been a camaraderie that has run deep into my being and fulfilled an ancient need within myself._

_The one bond that has touched my heart the most has been the connection I have made with Gab'vrith. Since the moment I met him I have seen a reflection of what I want to be when I am of an advanced age; peaceful and filled with wisdom to share with a younger generation. Every time I return to the village I always first go to Gabe's tent. We will usually start with tea and casual conversation; sometimes we will meet in the woods away from the village and meditate or discuss nature. _

_I feel he has given me more encouragement to regularly explore my ranger's skills. Above all, our talks have given me a closer connection and understanding of nature and the spirit within. I have held Mielikki close to my heart for over a century, though it hasn't been until recently, until after meeting a fellow drow of the wood that I have truly appreciated what she stands for._

_I consider Gabe a mentor of sorts, one who makes me think a little more clearly about the spiritual nature of things when I long denied it for the purely physical and rational. No one will ever replace Zaknafein or Montolio, though I welcome a third guiding force for this new era in my life._

_No matter how much camaraderie or inspiration I have gained from my time with the Brotherhood, the thought is still in the back of my mind that I have only known these drow for fours months. I do not yet know all of their secrets or motivations and am aware there us a possibility I might learn a deep-down truth of this group that will cause me to curse their purpose. Every time I feel truly elated about what I have found, I have tried to temper that happiness with that possibility as much as a wish I could just put it aside. _

_I have vowed to enjoy the moment, savor my company, and yet keep a wary eye open._

-Drizzt Do'Urden

* * *

Gab'vrith didn't look up when the front flap of his large tent lifted, Drizzt only needed to see a smile as he adjusted the clay kettle on the small fire in the middle of the room.

"I suggest you leave your cloak on the rack beside you," Gabe said, his gaze still on the fire as he set aside two mugs. "It must be completely soaked with all the rain we've gotten today."

Drizzt smiled and removed his green traveling cloak, placing it on a wooden peg built into the tent frame.

"It is now mostly showers," Drizzt said, walking forward and coming to a cross-legged sit on the other side of the fire facing Gabe. "I believe we might actually see the sun tomorrow."

"Or the full moon tonight, according to my predictions," Gabe said, his pink and red eyes falling to Drizzt as he gave a smile.

Gabe picked the kettle off the fire and poured out the black tea into the two cups. The aroma of lavender and aged tea leaves was briefly lost in a small draft of wind under the tent though returned in its full glory. Gabe put the kettle back on the fire and handed one mug to Drizzt, who nodded in thanks and pressed his fingers against the warm mug, greedily taking in its heat after spending the past few hours in the raw spring rain.

Gabe poured a cup for himself and gave a small toast before taking a casual sip.

"I hope you didn't get any flack from the boys guarding the perimeter," Gabe said, "they have been awful edgy lately with all the orc leavings we've been finding."

"They were nothing but polite to me, though you can see their edginess," Drizzt said, taking a sip of the sweetly pungent liquid. "I am here to tell you the matter has been settled. About a tenday ago one of Obould's cousins tried rather unsuccessfully to start a revolution against the king and left any indicators he could to the surrounding villages he was not to be trifled with."

"He leaves behind wolves skewered on pikes with the Eye of Gruumsh written in blood on their fur," Gabe said, rolling his eyes. "That's a weak indicator of power and only angers the forest folk more with their desecration. I told the boys you see anyone doing that take care of the problem."

"The problem's already been taken care of by Obould himself," Drizzt said. "The head of said cousin is now on a pike on the wall of Dark Arrows, much to the dismay of most everyone."

"I suppose orcs will be orcs no matter how civilized they seem," Gabe said. "Like I have any reason to talk."

Drizzt gave a wry chuckle in response with Gabe joining in a moment later. Gabe's chuckle faded as he took a long sip of his tea, his face in contemplation.

"There is one matter regarding our group I have been meaning to ask you about," Gabe said.

Drizzt took a sip and nodded in understanding, knowing this conversation was coming soon. He reached in his neckpurse and removed the clay disc given to him during his first visit to the village. He held it up, showing all but the image of an arrow and vine had faded from the disc. Gabe looked at it and nodded.

"You have been a most welcome visitor to our settlement for the past four months," Gabe said. "I believe it is time we start talking about whether you are going to make your involvement official since we cannot accept visitors for too long."

"I've thought hard on it," Drizzt said. "It is tempting me more and more, though I have heard you have a rather involved initiation process."

"Not really involved," Gabe said carefully, looking to be choosing his words wisely. "More a matter of deeply committed. When I feel you are truly ready to be made one of us, it will involve a brief ceremony of initiation that I promise will not be entirely easy or even pleasant."

"Yes, the giving of the Mark I have heard," Drizzt said.

"Have you been told any details on what the process entails," Gabe said.

"No specifics and nothing in detail," Drizzt said, looking down at the swirling leaves in his tea before looking back up at Gabe. "I understand it does involve a permanent marking in the flesh, of what nature I do not know."

"Well you have a right to know what you're getting yourself into," Gabe said. "And I bring this up now to give you another two months to think on it. I will tell you it is a mark that if seen by a minion of the Spider Bitch is a spot on invitation for torture or killing on sight. Where I'm from, it indicated you gained someone's attention in a not so nice way and that someone wanted to share with her fellows that you are damaged."

"You and your five kinsmen received this mark, didn't you," Drizzt said, remembering the story of how the Brotherhood was formed.

"In the worst way possible," Gabe said. "It went from our mark of shame to our rallying cry; we were outcasts and that made us proud; it was our freedom from the priestesses and the restraints of Lolth. We gained members who wished to receive the Mark in solidarity and the word spread from there. Now we make it a requirement since there are those who would not receive the Mark as an indicator of disfavor and would easily turn our heads into the nearest priestess."

"You need to know someone in your village is trustworthy and will make the commitment," Drizzt said, though the idea of the Mark made him slightly uneasy.

He was unsure what type of flesh marring was involved. He had a high tolerance for pain and a lack of vanity, though would not pay in pounds of flesh for the purpose of another's cause. A small brand, scar, or tattoo he could tolerate for the sake of solidarity, though he would not be subjected to anything more.

Gabe looked at him thoughtfully, reading every ounce of reluctance and slight fear written on his face.

"I am sure you know Zelden Ryth and his son Rinnz," Gabe said.

Drizzt nodded, having had many conversations with the blacksmith and his adolescent son.

"Rinnz celebrated his twentieth birthday this week and is considered old enough to be formally initiated into the Brotherhood," Gabe continued. "He wanted to wait until the full moon to be inducted, remembering his father's story about how that full moon was the first thing he saw when leaving the caverns for the last time. Most of the village will witness it and I know Rinnz and Zelden would be honored if you were there."

"I would be most honored to be there," Drizzt said.

"It is a momentous occasion in this young man's life and it will be your chance to see what your own occasion will entail."

Drizzt nodded, happy to have the opportunity for knowledge at last.

* * *

The clouds had parted enough to reveal a bright, glowing full moon that shone down through the trees and illuminated the haze around the open canopy. The moon's silver glow mingled with the bright red and orange of the various torches around this one area of the woods.

Drizzt kept his perch on a large boulder on the edge of the small clearing, a few feet behind the ring of drow that had gathered. He wanted to watch this occasion, though not necessarily be a part of it. He was only an observer at this time; the true participants were the members of the Brotherhood that gathered to officially welcome another drow into their fold.

He did attend the gathering wearing only his hide trousers, naked to the waist and feet bare as the other members of the circle. It was a tradition, Gabe had told him, that at an initiation ceremony all drow in attendance wore no tunics, robes, or even boots. When fully clothed, all of them reflected their wealth, professions, and stations; if clad only in simple leggings or trousers all were equal in this one space.

It was a tradition Drizzt could respect, though was less than enthusiastic about seeing another tradition of the Brotherhood he was invited to witness.

He looked down at the gathered drow, counting around fifteen out of the sixty that had come to settle in the Glimmerwood. The ones in attendance were mostly those who knew the family personally and wanted to share this momentous moment.

The major exception to the average drow in attendance was the five drow near a cot in the middle of the clearing wearing wreaths of vines around their crowns of white hair. These were some of Gab'vrith's druid apprentices who attended to give spiritual support to the occasion. Clerics were not the main source of blessing here, servants of nature were; a refreshing change in Drizzt's mind though he was still reserving any further opinions until after he saw what would transpire here.

He looked into the group of druids, seeing Gabe at the side clad the same as the rest of the group. With his torso exposed, Drizzt saw a warrior's physique that had been allowed to sag and relax with the passing of age; the physique of a fighter who had hung up his swords and retired to a life of pure peace. Maybe that would have been Zaknafein's muscle tone had he lived to give up his near eternal existence of violence.

The thought put a smirk on Drizzt's face for a second, though he did not keep as hard a grip on sentimentality now as he used to. Zaknafein would spit on any warrior who let his physique fall to time and certainly would not allow that for himself. Violence was Zak's life; Gabe however had given it up for nature. The two were ultimately not alike; Drizzt had to keep reminding himself of that.

Gab'vrith's gaze gently went up to Drizzt, likely checking on his progress and any reactions he might have from what he would see. Drizzt gave a small smile and a nod in recognition, though his defenses were ever on.

The glance was broken by a small cheer that went up through the group. Drizzt's attention turned to the woods, where he saw a tall young dark elf with a long braid down his back. Young Rinnz Ryth entered the clearing with arms up like a cocky fighter greeting his admirers before entering a duel.

Rinnz looked older for his age and Drizzt was a bit surprised to hear he was only twenty, though the confidence of youth was plastered all over his face. He entered the circle with various pats on the back, his father Zelden, a Menzoberranzyr himself, walking close behind with a proud smile.

Drizzt was slightly relieved at the sight of the guest of honor walking in with smiles and not in dread; an image that jarred Drizzt's sense that this was like an execution or a sacrifice as opposed to a rite of passage.

Rinnz warmly embraced Gab'vrith, the crowd shifting to reveal the young drow wearing a blue wrap around his waist. He then stopped before the druids, his grin calming to a smile as he bowed to them.

Gabe's eldest apprentice Tsabrak Belthizz embraced Rinnz before gently guiding him to lay down on the simple cot set up in the clearing. Rinnz removed the wrapping, revealing his nude form before lying down on the cot. Drizzt could see him give a few deep breaths indicating nervousness.

The crowd settled to a more stable position, giving Drizzt a view of a small table beside the cot with a small clay bowl filled with charcoal, a bottle of off-white liquid that had the consistency of witch-hazel, and a small marble tray on which an instrument rested that resembled a smooth stone knife among other items.

Tsabrak picked up a small bundle of dried sage and set it smoldering with a flint and steel. He slowly waved the bundle over Rinnz, face in quiet contemplation. He then dropped a few embers from the sage into the clay bowl, catching the coal on fire and producing a blue flame before setting the sage down.

Drizzt grew increasingly uneasy, eying all the tools on the table and wondering their purpose; or wondering how they would inflict pain on this smiling young man.

"Rinnz Ryth," Tsabrak said. "Is it your wish to continue the initiation into the Brotherhood? Now is your last chance to back away."

"I come with an open mind and an open heart," Rinnz answered immediately.

Tsabrak smiled, taking up the bottle, removing the cork, and soaking a small cloth with the contents, Drizzt waiting with bated breath to see where he would dab the unguent.

He exchanged a glance with Gabe before seeing Tsabrak spread the lotion on Rinnz.

Drizzt tried to not let his jaw hang in reaction to what he saw, warnings going up in his brain and a part of him almost wanting to spring forth and stop whatever would happen. He kept still, a part of him giving a small benefit of the doubt.

Tsabrak put down the cloth and picked up the tool. Drizzt's breath was staggered, his body tensing as Tsabrak positioned the tool. The druid set to work and Drizzt felt his stomach turn. He flinched his gaze away for a second but pried it back in place. His hand shook as he watched the so called "mark" being given; completely disgusted at what he was seeing though his mind still telling him it was not as ill as it appeared at the moment.

Rinnz' face contorted in pain and he clutched the sides of the cot, though a small smile was on his face the whole time. It wasn't as if he was being tortured, it was like he was going through a welcome trial. Zelden watched on with concern, though his expression too was light. All were indicators to Drizzt that he may not have been witnessing something as wicked as he thought.

Tsabrak's work was completed and Rinnz visibly relaxed, his head going back on the pillow with a deep breath. Drizzt too breathed a sigh of relief that what he had seen was not as bad as he imagined it could have been. It was a horrifying sight nonetheless and Drizzt still felt disgusted.

Tsabrak put his hand to Rinnz, who took it and allowed himself to be lifted from the cot as the two embraced to a mass of cheers.

"Welcome your new brother," Tsabrak said to the group.

Rinnz' arms were once again in the air; his ebony complexion slightly blanched and his stance slightly shaky, though his grin and look of triumph beaming through.

Drizzt took a deep breath, feeling dizzy. He gradually jumped off the rock and onto the ground. Leaving now would likely be rude, though his step was straight towards the woods. He needed a few moments to digest what he had just seen.

* * *

"I said it would not be pleasant," Gabe said. "And I can tell you agree with that assessment."

Drizzt looked to the side further into the trees. Gabe was the last person he wanted to see right now though he was the one person he should see.

He gave a hard sigh and looked up; adjusting his position on the fallen tree he had sat on for the past five minutes of numb contemplation. Gabe was still bare to the waist, likely having just left Rinnz "initiation" after a few well-wishes to the new Brother. Drizzt saw a look of pained understanding across his scared face and not relish or impatience.

"I watched a noble House in Menzoberranzan be torn apart by Matron Baenre and her demons simply for not killing all the members of a House they tried to take," Drizzt said. "I was a naïve little prince fully seeing the first time the barbarism of our race and I remember my jaw ached for hanging down so long in trembling at what I saw. I also distinctly remember one of my sisters glancing at me with the most puzzled look; why was I not enjoying the sight of someone else's pain. That look is not on your face now, and that is what is keeping me from introducing your skull to the butt of my sword."

Gabe chuckled and nodded.

"I take no pleasure in seeing pain," Gabe said.

"Yet you will have it inflicted on the members of your own group," Drizzt said, gradually coming to his feet and standing eye to eye with the druid as his voice tensed with every word. "If I may be so blunt."

"Be as blunt as you need to be," Gabe said.

A part of Drizzt wanted to be as polite as possible, another part wanting to punch him. He had to give voice to a compromise between these emotions.

"You hail yourself as a leader of these men who have gone through the Hells to be here at last, yet you will cast them out if they will not undergo the mutilation I just saw inflicted on a drow who is practically a boy," Drizzt said, trying his best not to scream his outrage. "You will inflict a torture upon your own men that was used on you in the name of solidarity, making your practice no better than that of the priestesses you curse and cast the people you allegedly love so much out to the wolves if they refuse."

"Yours is a sound argument, though would you even think there are other perspectives at work here than your own," Gabe responded, his calm voice taking an edge.

Drizzt looked back to the woods for a moment before looking back at Gabe. The druid's trousers were now pulled to his knees and Drizzt saw most of his bare form, including the same mark he saw given to Rinnz that night.

Drizzt's brows furrowed at the sight. Gabe's mark was ragged and left deep, angry scars. The flesh around it was discolored and deformed, showing it was not done as cleanly as Rinnz' had been.

"The marking you just saw was done with a very sharp tool that was made to not hold infection and will be buried soon and another one made for the next time," Gabe said. "This one you see here was done with a piece of ragged obsidian that had been soaked in salt water. The mark you saw took a few minutes; this one was done within twenty minutes as slowly as possible. I was able to procure some healing potions outside the priestess' knowledge when this one took a really nasty infection."

Gabe pulled up his trousers and restrung them, seeing Drizzt's enraged expression slightly calmed.

"I do not take pleasure in seeing pain, though I have learned that pain in itself is not an evil concept," Gabe continued. "It is a cleanser; it kills a part of yourself and makes something regrow in the process.

"For the five of us in House Frzelln, it was the death of our status but the birth of our freedom. Our cause, before and after we had realized its name, was written in our very flesh. Many willingly took that mark even before we had formed our group, wanting to demonstrate such a commitment to the cause of freedom in an apparent, brutal way. A priestess or soldier sees this mark; you're a dead man in their eyes, a _dobluth, _a male shamed in the most brutal way and therefore a target. Every member of my group who has been marked has said they felt more alive afterward, even enjoying some pleasures a bit more with their new life. In the past two hundred years, there has not been one infection and no scarring as you have seen with me. In fact this marking is not unique to our group alone; other cultures have something similar and have been doing it long before we were born."

Drizzt breathed a deep sigh, taking in Gabe's words. Everything he said made perfect sense without reeking of drow propaganda. The mark sounded more an act of solidarity than an act of torture. He knew of cultures that included body alteration as a right of passage.

This particular form, however, startled him and he could not imagine any other group that would inflict this for any benign reason. The Mark did not sound like such an evil thing, though it was a concept that still scared him.

"I believe you," Drizzt said, looking at Gabe and nodding.

"And I understand your reaction," Gabe said. "If you didn't way what you said, I'd seriously doubt this noble reputation I keep hearing about."

Drizzt gave a chuckle in spite of himself.

"I cannot say right now that I am willing to receive this mark," Drizzt said. "I respect you and your people, though this all still disturbs me."

"That is also understood, Gabe said, nodding. "Though I will say again if you do not receive it within the next two months, I cannot have you in my village. The Brotherhood requires a commitment in flesh. Those who are unwilling to make that solid commitment might betray us; it is a reality that I cannot chance."

Drizzt nodded. He didn't like the circumstances, though they were understandable.

"I am going to need some time to think this over," Drizzt said.

Gabe nodded, looking back to the village and motioning him to follow.

"You might want to get your gear back on first," he said.


	4. Finale

The Mark

**The Mark**

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.

**6 of Mirtul, 1473 The Year of Risen Ghosts  
The Glimmerwood**

_The image of a single arrow remains on the clay disc I was given nearly six months ago. _

_I have counted the days by the fading of that image, watching each complex line fade into nothingness where a full design was before. In the tendays prior to this one my heart ached a little bit with each fading line. This tenday, however, I watched more of the image disappear with a calm heart._

_Nearly two months ago I did not look upon the disc at all, even resisting the temptation to throw it off a cliff or in a fast moving river._

_Nearly two months ago I counted time by the fading of my horrific memories of seeing a "mark" given to young Rinnz Ryth. I watched a young, second generation Surfacer have his flesh marred as part of the Brotherhood's initiation rite. The sight disgusted me, though I more understood the reasons and philosophy behind it after a thoughtful conversation with Gab'vrith._

_Rinnz Ryth made the decision to have his flesh marred; he was not coerced into it and did so out of his own decision. I would see him drinking and making merry with his fellows in celebration later that night and not cowering in pain, fear, or anger. _

_That would be the last moment I would spend with the Brotherhood for nearly a month. I did not return to their camp, the memory of watching the "mark" performed shook me deep. It was not only in sympathy for Rinnz did I leave; it was more in discomfort for my own flesh._

_My own time with the Brotherhood would be fleeting unless I agreed to undergo the same rite; a thought that truly sickened me. E very member of the Brotherhood, every male drow with whom I shared company and stories, with whom I shared hopes, fears, and experiences, had all had their moment of agony in front of their peers._

_I stayed away from the village of drow I had come to care for, thinking I was making the right decision for either the sake of my principles or my own comfort. A tenday passed and the memory of that painful moment faded. Another tenday and the image left my mind, though I could only push away the underlying yearning in my heart so much. Another tenday passed and the emptiness grew no matter how much I tried to fill it with the memory of what I had witnessed and the possibility of having to go through the same._

_After nearly a month, I finally brought myself to the camp again; a bittersweet day. Gab'vrith greeted me with a warm embrace and did not ask me about my own initiation. He could read my emotions as I felt as an unsteady fawn returning to this group. _

_I have returned frequently since, though always leaving with a glance to the disc in my neckpurse. I watched each line and image fade in sadness and dread for the next two tendays._

_I no longer count the days by a fading image or a fading memory. Instead I count in the peace that I gradually found since I made my final decision._

_My moment of reckoning wasn't a conversation with Gabe, it wasn't witnessing another painful initiation, and it wasn't in spending any time with the Brotherhood. My moment of truth came in looking at myself._

_I have looked down at my own body and seen the marks in my own ebony flesh that have not come by my choosing but by the course of my life. I see the faded line where Ellifain's fire shield charm hit me as I cut through her. I see a small raised patch on my hip from an orc's club. The width of Artemis Entreri's dagger is still a faint line on my chest and I have seen the line from his sword across my back in mirrors. If I look carefully enough, I can make out a few raised lines from my sisters' whips and Vendes Baenre's club. This is not counting the host of other little lines and patches all over my body I can attribute to a thousand forgotten battles._

_These marks tell a story of battles, triumphs, tragedies, pain, and my life in general. Every being in this world carries these marks, especially my fellow drow in the Brotherhood. I see fifty different men with my story, though with various differing details. These drow have escaped tyranny for freedom, escaped lives of violence for lives of peace, or some have lived with peace their entire lives and bear marks that such peace does not come without struggle._

_From sword and claw gashes to spell burns, the history of our lives and our deeds is told by the markings in our flesh and not by our own choosing, though the Brotherhood and so many other cultures have in their tradition to write one part of that history through a purposeful marking of the flesh. It is like writing their own tale of camaraderie, loyalty, and struggles all shared. _

_I have been invited to receive such a mark by the Brotherhood; what I have looked on with repulsion I should look in honor and far be it for me to judge the marking to be given. This marking was one given to Gab'vrith and his fellows as punishment and remains a shared marking of freedom. The only thing that would prevent me from receiving such an honor is my own arrogance, stubbornness, and cowardice; all illegitimate reasons._

_I no longer will count the days by a fading image or memory. I will count the next few days until I receive my own marking and become one of this Brotherhood_.

-Drizzt Do'Urden

* * *

Gab'vrith sat across from him, avoiding the fallen branch a few inches from him without even looking down as if he knew it was the all along. His expression was thoughtful and he looked on Drizzt with a bemused smile.

Drizzt shifted his weight in the grass, moving aside from a wet spot where a stubborn patch of snow sat a few tendays earlier. He matched Gabe's gaze, though knew to expect some kind of expression or reaction of this kind.

He had practically avoided the village for three tendays and returned for short periods of time, neither mentioning the still uncomfortable subject of the Mark.

Given this reality, Drizzt knew to expect this reaction when he arrived in the village just an hour back gave Gabe a warm embrace while whispering in his ear "I am ready for a more permanent involvement with this group."

The usual conversation continued amongst Drizzt and the other drow before Gab'vrith pulled him aside in the woods.

Drizzt only smiled in response, half expecting a warm welcome and half expecting ample of curiosity.

"Why are you doing this?" Gabe asked, bemused smile firmly in place.

Drizzt's own smile stiffened as the question startled him. Gabe just stared at him smiling. Drizzt nodded, at a loss for words for a moment, though having a feeling this was another one of the old druid's enigmas.

"What do you think" Drizzt said, a smirk returning to his face.

"That I hope you are doing this for the right reasons," Gabe replied, his smile relaxing as Drizzt's faded. "Last I knew the idea of the Mark shook you to the core. Now you come to me all smiles and saying how willing you are to receive it."

"I've thought long and hard on this," Drizzt said with a nod, "and have had a series of personal revelations. These past two months have been a journey for me. I faced my fears and discomfort and realized I should be looking at this as an honor than as a curse. You and the Brotherhood have been so generous to me since I entered this camp."

"And you are afraid to lose that camaraderie," Gabe said. "You have said as much to me before, you are greatly disturbed by the idea of being cast out for refusing a thing such as this."

Drizzt nodded, knowing exactly where he was going with this.

"And you are concerned I would undergo the Mark for the sole reason of fitting in with the crowd," Drizzt said.

Gab'vrith nodded, giving Drizzt another thoughtful look with a moment of silence.

"You understand my concern before I asked it and did not hide from my query," Gabe said. I take that as a good sign. Or it was a right answer given at a right time; so which is it?"

"It is a number of things," Drizzt said. "I would not receive such a marking for reasons of pure assimilation, though I won't lie to you and say losing my company with this group was not a concern. Finding the Brotherhood has been a miracle, though I believe we are all bonded by our own experiences and I feel truly blessed to find these drow…"

"Who are so like you and you never thought they existed," Gabe finished, his smile widening as he nodded. "I believe your intentions for wishing to receive the Mark are pure. Your face is relaxed and your voice is exuberant; I do not hear any strains of reluctance in you. You have also blessed us with your presence, Drizzt. I was a bit worried to see your reaction when you first learned of our initiation, though you have taken your time to be at peace with it, and I haven't minded your periods of absence that I knew were for that reason."

Drizzt felt his jaw hang open; it was as if Gab'vrith had looked inside him and seen all these thoughts and fears. It should have been no surprise; the old drow had a phenomenal intuition that age and years of wandering and finding his own path brought to him. Drizzt could only hope to have such wisdom at that age.

Gabe came to his knees and twisted around to face the brush. He rooted through the thick branches and snapped off one thick pine twig, snapping off the rest of the smaller branches until a series of pointed knobs remained. He returned to his position and looked at Drizzt.

"Close you eyes," Gabe said. "And concentrate on your breath."

Drizzt looked at the branch, though nodded and closed his eyes. It was the beginning of a meditation exercise that could go anywhere under the circumstances.

He took a deep breath, concentrating on the breeze rustling through the trees and the babble of a nearby brook.

"I want you to think on what pains you," Gabe said in his usual soothing voice. "I want you to imagine one tragedy after another, everything you can think of that has struck your heart, torn you to pieces."

Drizzt took a reluctant breath. It was not as if he hadn't thought like that in the past hundred years, his whole life even, though he knew there was a deeper purpose to this.

The images flew through his brain one by one; Zaknafein falling into the acid pit, Catti-brie's last few fits, Ellifain falling on his scimitar. He shuddered at every one, feeling his fist balling up and the rage and sadness building within him.

"Focus on that hurt, feel it, know it as a tangible thing sitting inside your chest," Gabe said.

Drizzt felt his chest ache and his stomach lurch. It was a ball of sick in the middle of his body like a dormant fireball ready to explode.

"Now relax one of your hands, let it fall open," Gabe continued.

Drizzt managed to pry open his hand from a fist. A knobby pine stick slid into his palm.

"I want you to focus on that pain, that anguish, and I want you to close your hand as hard as you can," Gabe said.

The fire in Drizzt's body rose and his hand was all-too willing to close into a fist over the stick. The sharp knobs poked into the sensitive flesh of his palm with a sharp ache.

"I want you to imaging that ache flowing into your hand," Gabe said. "Those little stubs are all the tragedies you have endured. Doesn't it feel good that ache is no longer inside your body?"

Drizzt visualized the sharp press into his palm and fingers and nodded with Gabe's words. It did feel as if something inside him was given a physical form…so it didn't have to stay inside him any more where it could do more damage than a few pokes from a stick.

"This is what is happening now," Gabe said. "Not a hundred years ago, right here and now. The moment you open your fist, all the agony will disappear; free your pain and you will be free. Now open your hand."

Drizzt opened his palm, letting the stick fall to the ground. The sharp jabs were gone and replaced with a sense of relief.

"Open your eyes," Gabe said.

Drizzt took another breath and slowly opened his eyes, squinting at first with the sudden introduction of sunlight though gradually opening them wider. He looked down and saw a series of small indentations in his flesh. He then looked up at Gab'vrith, seeing his smile wide as he nodded.

"I have guided every member of the Brotherhood through this meditation on the afternoon before their initiation," he said. "Remember this moment tonight, though I believe you are prepared enough."

Drizzt smiled, a small triumphant laugh sneaking out. It would all happen tonight and he knew deep in his soul he was indeed ready.

* * *

His infrared vision shifted with the first glow of torches through the dark wood. Drizzt paused for a moment, adjusting the light cotton wrap around his waist while seeing the silhouetted forms of drow through the trees. Hardly a conversation was had above the occasional whisper and all faces were in his direction.

This was his night; he was eagerly awaited as the guest of honor for this sacred occasion.

His stomach sank with some lingering nervousness about this whole affair. He could easily run back to Gab'vrith's tent, collect his gear, and be out of there forever.

The thought was waved off like a mosquito by his ear; eagerness was the predominant emotion in his heart and not fear. He wanted to enter the circle like Rinnz did; a triumphant champion entering one of the defining moments of his life.

Drizzt's bare feet set back into motion, treading across leftover pine needles and tufts of grass. The occasional acorn or twig found its stinging way underneath his calloused feet, but he shrugged off the discomfort; it was a part of his journey.

The glow of torches grew brighter and he could make out facial features in the drow surrounding the circle. He could name every one of them, tell their history, and remember at least one occasion of speaking with them on the path or in the course of any other activity. He did not personally choose the ones in the circle; he allowed Gabe to call an open invitation to whoever wanted to be there.

By the outlines through the wood he could see around twenty were in attendance; the rest were likely seeing to their usual nightly businesses. Drizzt couldn't have cared if a hundred or only three showed up to witness this passage.

His path cleared the trees as his bare feet met soft grass. A mass of cheers went up around him. He raised his arms in his own triumph; not entering as a conquering hero, just showing his gratitude to his fellows and himself for being willing to enter this new phase of his life.

Hands patted his shoulders, some drow embraced him. He heard whispers of well wishes and welcome, some fellow Menzoberranzyr calling him "my hero." The pure love he felt from this group put a tightness in the back of his throat. He had been in their midst for six months, though now he truly felt blessed by their company.

Drizzt walked closer to the center of the circle, the hairs in the back of his neck standing up at the sight of the cot and the table where Tsabrak Belthizz had set up the instruments. He merely looked at them with a proud smile; his fear slowly seeping away.

He saw Gabe through the crowd; the old druid simple looking at him with a proud smile he returned before meeting Tsabrak's gaze.

Tsabrak, clad in his usual simple robe that looked as if it had been a bed sheet at some point, warmly embraced him. He then pulled back and nodded at the wrapping around Drizzt's waist. Drizzt nodded back, pulling the folds and letting the wrap fall to the ground.

Tsabrak guided him to lie on the cot. The ache in his stomach returned, though he pushed it off and lay down on the soft canvas. His neck stiffened for a moment in protest, his nerves knowing that the second he laid his head down on the sweet smelling barley pillow he had sealed his fate.

Drizzt gave a nervous smile in spite of himself, taking a deep breath and relaxing. The soft crunching of barley against cotton pressed down by the back of his head soon followed.

He made his choice a tenday ago, it was best to have the experience lest the fear make him spring from the bench he laid upon now.

Sage burned around him, its sweet smell putting him at ease for a moment knowing what he was about to do was purely symbolic of this commitment.

A part of Drizzt didn't want to pry his gaze away from the garlands of flowers strung above him, though his purple eyes moved from its frozen spot to those who had become some of his closest comrades in too long.

They formed a ring around him, red eyes looking at him in curiosity though there were some looks of sympathy among this mass of unusual drow. Their usual woodland leathers and weather beaten tunics in another location as all were bare to the waist, all equal in this one space. Twenty sets of hardened muscles and lithe forms stood around him, heads of white hair in their usual state of dishevelment or bearing mussed ponytails or chopped spikes.

All of them were male, all of them were like him; drow who lived their lives by the rules of the wilderness. All were of different creeds and philosophies, but they had become his friends.

At last he had found drow like him, a miracle in itself. He had actually found a group of drow with principles that closely matched his own; they were not perfect, though they were not wicked like how he has associated his kin. Maybe the past hundred years of personal change, maybe having Tos'un Armgo as a friend changed him. Maybe spending the 90 years after the Spellplague as a lonely wanderer finally made him give in no matter what race his friends would be.

It was a fact that made this decision a bit easier, though no less terrifying.

A smoldering stick of sage danced in the air around him, covering his naked form in the purifying smoke. Drizzt's eyes trailed over to Tsabrak as he chanted blessings over him in Sylvan.

Tsabrak put the dropped a few of the burning ashes from the sage stick in another container that lit up with a small, blue flame before putting the sage down on the table in another shell. He then picked up the thin, stone instrument that Drizzt knew was razor sharp

He took a few more deep breaths, steeling his nerves. A part of him panicked, wondering why he was doing this, though the rest of strength pushed through all reluctance. He had made his decision a tenday ago; backing out now would be an insult to himself and the closest comrades he had in too long.

Drizzt looked up, meeting the gaze of Gab'vrith Frzelln, the first mentor and one of the closest friends he had in too long. It was a title he did not give easily, the loudest sign he was doing the right thing.

"Drizzt Do'Urden," Tsabrak said. "Is it your wish to continue the initiation into the Brotherhood? Now is your last chance to back away."

"I have made my choice," Drizzt said in a proud tone that betrayed some nervousness. "I come with an open mind and an open heart."

He had made this decision a tenday ago. This is crazy, his mind still screamed at him, though he knew what to expect.

Tsabrak leaned down with the instrument in hand, the other hand with a cloth bathed in witch-hazel.

Drizzt smiled, looking up at the trees. He was surprised he didn't flinch when feeling the unguent spread on his most sensitive flesh; now feeling ready for what would come next.

A white-hot pain burst through his skin. He took a breath, neck muscles straining and teeth clenched as he felt the small knife score through his skin.

He wanted to scream, though only breathed deeper. The pain was cleansing as mind went back to the meditation with Gabe. All the painful memories from his life flashed through his thoughts once more and the pain represented that.

It is pain nothing more, he thought to himself. It is something I can control at last and I will not let it control me.

Drizzt wringed his hands though his eyes going from the trees to meeting the gazes of all his friends before looking at Gabe, who gave him an encouraging smile.

The fire disappeared, replaced by one sudden sting. Drizzt's muscles relaxed as he gave off a series of panting breaths.

He looked up to see Tsabrak gently pulling off the foreskin that had covered his phallus his entire life. A small bit of blood was left from the cuts, though his flesh overall looked unmarred. The searing pain was replaced by a dull ache and a throbbing, though Drizzt knew it would disappear with time.

The shape of his phallus was fully exposed, no longer underneath the sleeve of skin. It was indeed the Mark of his adopted people, freed from this piece of flesh that could be used to give pain or scarred by a priestess.

He gave a laugh; he had gotten though this trial and was now a part of this Brotherhood. Drizzt knew now he had made the best decision.

Tsabrak slowly put the foreskin into the blue flame, the heat and fire charring it and rendering it ashes within seconds. The shaman then put his hand down. Drizzt grabbed it while giving him a pat on the back and allowing himself to be pulled off the cot. His feet met the ground, legs unsteady with the ache through the lower part of his body.

"Welcome your new Brother," Tsabrak said to the crowd.

Drizzt stood before his people as they cheered; now bearing their Mark. He put his arms up once more, knowing he had truly found his family.

* * *

**Two months later**

Drizzt recognized the subtle vibration of slender footfalls over the stony banking as a drow's step, practically hearing it through the mossy boulder that had been his pillow for the past half hour. He gradually lifted his head and looked behind him, stretching his submerged body to look further in that direction though it would have rather remained blissfully soaking in the shallow edge of the River Surbrin.

Tos'un Armgo gave him a friendly nod in greeting, his weapon belt and his sleeveless white tunic already in his hand as sweat caked his body from the day's high heat. Drizzt could see Hralien following close behind, removing his own tunic and putting it on a nearby rock.

Drizzt returned to his reclining position, feeling the water shift and looking up to see Tos'un, trousers already off, practically plunge into the water with a light splash and an expression of immense relief. Drizzt looked back up at Hralien, who carefully examined the edge of the river while removing his own trousers.

A few other elves had also found their own places on the banking several feet away from them and Drizzt saw a few humans watering their horses on the opposite side of the river. One glanced over and did a double-take at the sight of the two drow, but merely shrugged and paid more attention to his horse's reins.

Drizzt was perfectly relaxed at the moment. Brigands or any other troublemakers typically left this one area alone and there were plenty of friendly parties around, so he allowed himself to lower his guard yet remain ever alert.

"Satisfy my curiosity about one thing, Drizzt," Tos'un said, briefly ducking his head under the water and coming up spitting out a stream of water. "You are formally initiated into that band of drow waywards in the north part of the forest, yet you seem to reside mostly around here. Can I take it you're not cloistered?"

Drizzt gave a light chuckle at the question, seeing Hralien gradually step into the water.

"Membership in the Brotherhood does not require remaining with the band all the time," Drizzt said. "In fact there are several members who only find a group of their brethren during the holidays or once every few years. There are trappers who visit the village occasionally, I know of at least one trader who lives in Waterdeep, or more appropriately Skullport, and visits when he gets time."

"Though I can imagine that village is the safest home for many of these drow," Hralien said. "Not to speak for any of you of course."

Drizzt gave a grim nod in agreement and saw Tos'un subtly give the same.

"It's ever been a safe haven, from those escaping the Underdark to those simply wishing to spend time with fellows," Drizzt said, giving a casual glance to Tos'un's reaction.

Tos'un knew about the Brotherhood, though didn't seem entirely comfortable with the topic. A look of scared curiosity was on his face in the few times the subject did come up for whatever reason. Drizzt had no interest in recruiting, but would be willing to ease any reluctance and answer whatever questions.

He was still in the midst of his own exuberance. Two months had passed since his marking and he still felt cleansed from the experience. He did not live in the village, though made a point of returning whenever he could. Listening to Gabe's grand plans for a Harvestide feast or helping the Surface-born Tsabrak identify edible mushrooms had just occured yesterday.

"Though from what understand this isn't merely a social circle," Tos'un said, splashing water over his arms. "Didn't I hear you and Hralien talking about an initiation?"

"He mentioned it about a month ago actually," Hralien said, his slender form lightly dropping into the water until only his head and shoulders were visible. Hralien gave Drizzt a curious smile to match Tos'un's own expression.

"And are you two ganging up on me for the fun of it or do you want me to spill a little more details," Drizzt said with a laugh, stretching his arms out on the rock and slightly lifting his head.

"It's for the good of Moonwood," Tos'un said, exchanging smirks with Hralien.

"Though only if you are willing," the moon elf said.

Drizzt nodded. Basic information about the Brotherhood was not a secret; discretion was encouraged though these two were trusted friends.

"There is a rather involved initiation and it does carry some pain," he said.

"As in a physical trial, or perhaps receiving a ritual marking," Hralien said, looking truly curious now.

Drizzt chuckled and nodded. Speaking directly about the Mark was seen as inappropriate, though it was clearly visible after all.

He removed his arms from the rock and gradually came to a stand, casually motioning a hand toward his nether area.

Tos'un's jaw dropped and a look of near horror came over his face. Hralien's eyebrows rose as he gained a look of curious interest.

"I assume circumcision is not commonly practiced by drow," Hralien said.

"Unless the drow in question has been declared an undesirable," Tos'un said, pulling his gaze away form Drizzt with a disturbed look. "It's meant as complete humiliation and torture for a male."

"Such was the case with the group's founders," Drizzt said. "They used their shame as a rallying cry and now it's a sign of liberation from drow society."

"And a few troupes of wild elves in the southern section of Cormanthor will perform it on their infants for hygienic reasons," Hralien said in a calmer, more matter-of-fact tone. "And there is at least one barbarian tribe in Rasheman that will do it on young men about to train as elite warriors."

"On infants," Tos'un said with a subtle shudder. He briefly looked back at Drizzt's mark, partially in disgust he was trying to bend into indifference.

Drizzt sat back down in the water and leaned against the rock.

"I will say I was scared as the Hells to get it," Drizzt said, "though I am grateful for the experience."

Tos'un and Hralien nodded in response, a grimace still on Tos'un's face.

Drizzt chuckled, giving a grand stretch back into his reclining position.

THE END

Author's Note: The seeds for "The Mark" were planted about a year ago from a conversation I had with a friend, who said something about one area on a drow male that must be easy to inflict pain by a female is his foreskin. This kind of planted the small curiosity about drow and circumcision; is it ever done on drow, why and why not and under what circumstances. This idea kind of grew in the past few months for whatever reason and it morphed into some kind of sick plot bunny involving Drizzt, especially Drizzt after the Spellplague. The idea grew more and I looked up information on the Jewish practice of circumcising infants and it was regarded as a commitment to God in one's flesh.

I knew the subject would likely cause a lot of discomfort among readers, especially male readers and I thought of ways how I could get around this. The huge idea that came about was keeping the Mark a complete mystery until the very end. The final result is this story. I also wanted to find some peace in the fact Vhaeraun, my absolute favorite Realms deity, might actually be dead and wanted to explore the option of drow, like Drizzt, who do not follow a drow god. Given the information I've read on the Surface drow, it's not such a stretch to think there are other drow in Drizzt's position.

I have several more ideas for this particular setting and will likely continue the story of Drizzt, Gab'vrith, and the rest of the Brotherhood. Huge thanks to all my readers and I'm glad I kept you guessing.


End file.
