Zaknafein Do'Urden

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[auzaknafein]

Do. you Love your son

 Though I comprehend it as it has been explained to me, the concept of Love as you humans understand it still quite foreign to me. Do not misunderstand- am fairly sure I have felt this thing throughout my life, though never before now have I had a name for it. In the Drow used in Menzoberranzan, there is no true translation for the concepts that have been described to me. The closest I can relate is, “khaless”, “trust”, though this term is considered negative, absurd and foolish. Such feelings are considered a weakness, something that inevitably leads to a knife in one’s back. Drow of the Underdark cannot afford to feel what has been described to me as “Love”. However you ask me if I feel this thing for my son. Here is the answer I can give you: 

Drizzt is my Pride. His name, when thought or spoken, brings a smile to my lips and fills my chest with an airy delight. He is my Treasure. Though he is more than capable, I would, I have, sacrificed my very being to keep him from harm. I would again, without a thought, should it divert disaster from his path. I have found my own worth in him. He is my inspiration. Somehow, his very existence has turned me into a better person, driven me further and higher than I ever thought myself possible. I dare not imagine my life without his encouraging presence. Life would turn to mere existence should his rich spirit be pulled from this world before mine.

You ask if I Love my son. I do not know. I suppose you will have to tell me.

[auzaknafein]

[[ I love these thoughts and as a Zaknafein RPer I have spend a ridiculous amount of time considering and toying with the ideas you’ve brought up here. I even have a half written scene from a potential AU where Zak and Drizzt leave Menzoberranzan together. I wrote it with another person and it was intended to be part of a larger fic so I would have to ask my partner, but I might be able to post a bit of it some time. : ) 

I can give you an idea of what we came up with though: In Homeland, Drizzt asks Zak to run away with him and Zak tells him its impossible. Instead of accepting that and letting it go as he does in the book, however, Drizzt decides to press a little more and ends up convincing himself that a physical death in the underdark is better than a spiritual death in Menzo. Drizzt’s conviction, the weight of his arguments, and how much he begins to remind Zak of an old companion has the old weapon’s master reconsidering the decision to stay. As in the book, Drizzt takes a walk to consider everything (where he obtains Guen), however Zak is too worked up to try for sleep that night. As he restlessly stalks the corridors, he overhears the priestesses’ plans to sacrifice either himself or Drizzt and that pretty much makes up his mind for him. ]]

[vanillycake]

How I pictured some characters from the Legend of Drizzt book 1

[agent-underdark]

@auzaknafein

[auzaknafein]

[[Nailed it!]]

[auzaknafein]

Zaknafein growled softly to himself as he limped deeper into the dark forest. It seemed his past was determined to dog him no matter how far he ran from it. He’d thought himself finally safe, that he’d finally managed to escape pursuit, but the figures who’d jumped him three nights prior–and were STILL pursuing him–were proving otherwise. He wasn’t sure who had originally hired the first hunters nearly a year ago, but it’d been months since he’d encountered anything more hostile than the occasional goblin or wild animal. He’d thought himself finally safe. That he’d been forgotten by whoever apparently wanted him. He’d thought wrong.

He paused a moment, leaning heavily against a tree as he panted for breath, then grudgingly pushed forward again, his left leg dragging slightly. For three days now he’d been running, with little time to rest, see to his injuries or even eat. He was flagging, losing strength and he knew it. Part of him wished to simply turn and face his tormentors head on, to show them how truly dangerous their quarry was…but he’d already tried that. He’d killed the first of them, those many months ago when this had originally began, but each time he did, the next set came at him more carefully, with more force and conviction. Better now that he kept just beyond their reach, ran them until they lost interest or he slipped from their grasp entirely. Entirely unbidden, the memory of a Hunt though Braeryn–The ‘Stenchstreets’ of Menzoberranzan– from his younger years as a Do’Urden noble came to mind. He’d been drunk, bitter, angry and easily persuaded. It had been a game, a relief, a bloodsport hunting his own kin. He roughly pushed the image of the terrified young male he’d hunted through the streets from his thoughts. The memory of those cornered, terrified eyes would not benefit him now, nor would the bitter guilt he now felt for killing a defenseless being for sport.

So distracted and exhausted was he, that he didn’t notice the glow of the campfire until he crashed through the bushes and nearly stumbled into it. He cursed aloud as he found his footing, heart clenching as he realized he could have very easily have stumbled into the camp of the very people he was trying to escape. His hands automatically went to his weapons.

[sieged-by-fate-blog]

It happened so quickly Raserei barely registered what was going on, that and it wasn’t often someone came crashing into his camp. The demon spawn was in his feet in an instant and growling at the would be invader, his tail thrashing about behind him. But logic caught up with reaction and he fully realized that this…was this an elf of the moor? No his ears weren’t long enough, and he looks more human, well sort of.

Raserei shook his head refocusing his thoughts. It was clear this elf wasn’t an attacker going by the manner in which he entered the camp and even then the elf looked scared of him. But then again who wasn’t scared of him? An image of his friend Dolon popped into his head and the barbarian chuckled.

“Eglurwch eich hun?” Raserei thought he would try the dark elf language first, but he wasn’t even sure if the elf would understand him. He looked nothing like the elves of his home. 

He also looked around now alert, it had appeared the man was running from something or someone, and it could be close behind. The demon spawn listened for the signs of those hunting for prey. And he inhaled through his nose deeply trying to pick up the stench of sin that carried on those like that. It radiated from the one before him. Maybe this man wasn’t the prey after all. 

“Are you in danger? Or are you the hunter?” Raserei asked in the trade tongue this time. 

While some of his guard dropped because if his own curiosity the mercenary still kept his eye on the small elf. Which brought another thing to his attention, why was he so short?

[auzaknafein]

A tiefling? Zak’s hands tightened on the hilts of his weapons as he took in the horns and thrashing tail on the being now standing before him. At least he assumed it to be some sort of fiend or evil planetouched. He’d spent entirely too much time at the mercy of demons and devils to be unable to sense the aura of chaos that lingered on the plane’s denizens and those touched by their blood. But something was a little off about this one. It felt....different. He hesitated, unsure. Neither of his pursuers had been a tiefling either--he didn’t think-- but then the devious planetouched beings were commonly employed as assassins. Even if it wasn’t there for him...or didn’t really look much like an assassin. Zak decided he wasn’t taking his chances.

The tiefling made no move towards him so the warrior kept his weapon’s sheathed for the moment, continuing their stand off. When the creature spoke Zaknafein’s eyes narrowed. It wasn’t any language he knew, nor any form of abyssal that he’d heard- and he knew the sounds of abyssal.... Zak bristled, unnerved.

As the drow contemplated taking his chances and simply darting out of the camp, the creature spoke again, this time in a language he found could understand. Somewhat anyway. It was rougher and the pronunciations skewed, but he could make out the words of Surface Common.

“That depends” Zak replied in Common, doing his best to keep his exhaustion from his voice. “Who are you?”

[auzaknafein]

naked truth (If there isn't one for the last one, because I'm a terrible person.)

His smalls were the last garment to fall away, leaving him completely unclothed. Zaknafein stooped to pick up his weapon, scanning the area a final time before stepping down the bank and into the rushing water of the stream, He felt no shame as he set his sword on the edge of the bank and moved further into the stream, his skin prickling with the chill of the icey mountain water. Modesty was a repetitively unknown concept for drow in general and for Zak, he hadn’t considered his own since he was very, very young. Still being naked left him open in a more literal way, and he kept his eyes on the tree line as he began to bath. Strong and talented he might of been, but without his armor a well placed arrow could could fell him. Or, as exposed as he was, a well placed kick. Eventually he relaxed enough to focus more completely on his bath, the sweat and dirt of the previous week washing down stream.

[[I feel bad because I got 3 other Naked Truth asks after this one and I want to give you all SOMETHING for your asks. I considered having Zak take down his hair and/or remove some jewelry, but that seemed trite. If you have any suggestions as to what I could do to make it up to these guys, message me!]]

[auzaknafein]

naked truth??

Once thoroughly stretched, the drow lowered his arms. His fingers dipped into the ties at the front of his britches and began to work them undone. The worn leather rode down the crests of his hips as the laces loosened, exposing the soft definitions of his belly before falling away completely. Zaknafein, though considered fairly muscular for an elf, still retained a leanness to the lines of his body, very unlike many of the burly human warriors he’d encountered on the surface. Though he might not have been able to swing dual war axes or tear a tree limb from limb with his bare hands, standing there on the streams edge, in naught but his smallclothes, Zaknafein’s scared body sang of strength.

[auzaknafein]

Naked truth!

Zak shed his shirt and stood to arch himself more fully, looking quite a bit like a great cat awakening from a long nap. The sinew and muscle of his lean athletic body quivered with the great stretch, pulling at a the crisscrossed network of scars covering his back and arms. He shivered, the cold air nipping at his bared skin. He didn’t mind though. It felt nice. Freeing.

[auzaknafein]

Naked truth, please and thank you. :)

The warrior pulled off his boots and stockings then stretched his toes in the process. The feel of his joints in his feet cracking brought with it the compulsion to stretch the rest of his body more fully. He lifted his arms and arched his back, humming a note of pleasure as his vertebrae popped into alignment. The wave of contentment that washed over him left small content smile on his lips.

[auzaknafein]

Naked Truth ❤

As Zak pulled the chain shirt over his head, it snagged on the threads of his undershirt, dragging the light garment part ways up his chest, exposing the toned lines of his abdomen. He tossed the last piece of his armor into the growing pile and smoothed back his long hair where the chain had tangled a bit.

[[Just so everyone is on the same page, this will NOT be going over pg13 rating. ]]

[sidestuiff]

Reblog if your muse has been stabbed.

[auzaknafein]

Naked truth

Once his greaves were carefully set atop his folded cloak, his bracers soon followed, as did his shoulder guards and rest of his outermost armor. It took time to remove each piece but Zaknafein worked slowly, feeling no need to rush. His eyes closed momentarily as he soaked in the sounds of the river, his fingers still moving to unclasped each buckle. He paused once he lay the last piece in the pile and again glanced around the clearing, insuring he was still alone. Once satisfied, his hands moved to the bottom of his mithral chain shirt – The last piece of his armor.  

[auzaknafein]

Naked Truth ;)

He sat to remove his greaves. Piercing red eyes followed the frothy white movement of the flowing water as his hands traveled down the leather protecting his legs. Sight wasn’t necessary. Zak knew each piece of his armor as intimately as he knew his body. His fingers moved knowingly over the small buckles, undoing each by feel alone. 

[[more asks = more story.]]

[auzaknafein]

I'd like more Naked Truth, s'il vous plait.

[[My pleasure.]]

Zak’s cloak went next, carefully unclasped, folded and set beside his weapons. He felt lighter, cooler without the thick dark fabric draped over his shoulders, especially as close as he was to the rushing stream. It wasn’t an unwelcome feeling. Stray drops of cold water splattered against one dark cheek and he smiled softly to himself.

[[More asks = more story]]

[auzaknafein]

Honestly I want <_< so Naked Truth!

[[Well that didn’t take long! Haha!]]

Zaknafein bent down beside the mountain stream and dipped his fingers into the moving water. The water was cold but he’d expected as much considering the time of year. He cupped his hands into the stream and splashed his face with a pleased sigh. Brisk, but nice. A quick glance left and right to insure no one was around, then his hands moved to his weapon’s belt. With a clink, it and his weapons fell heavily to the wet grass beside him.

[[More of the story will follow with each ask I receive.]]

[those-crazy-meme-nights]

Send “Naked Truth” each time I get one, My Muse will strip off one article of clothing till they are naked!

[auzaknafein]

[[Don’t you want to see Zaknafein in his smalls??? ;) ]]

[the-parry-is-wrong]

auzaknafein

Zaknafein tracked the false-Drizzt’s every movement, lips still curled into a defensive snarl despite his inability to actually follow through. Amber-red eyes followed the other drow’s fingers as they moved to it’s belt. Zak stiffened, unsure of the creature’s intentions and what it might spell for himself. His confusion only grew as the drow unfastened its belt and tossed it, weapons and all, to the other side of the cave. Did it intent to torment him bare handed? To humiliate him with strength alone?  His eyes darted from the discarded items and back.

But the way it approached….so different. There was no swagger, no leering, no mocking words. It’s movements were slow, cautious, it’s voice soft and calming. Even it’s clothing seemed out of place to Zaknafein–they certainly weren’t drow made. And….and there was something else. Something lingering just on the edge of his mind, something important, just beyond his reach. Something he knew he needed to remember.

The old warrior’s snarl eased into a scowl but he remained tense. Nothing was right about any of this. Not being able to place why just made him more anxious.

“My heart?” He laughed as the figured paused. There was no measure of humor in the sound. “And when has following to my heart brought me anything but agony?”

The older male’s expression took a pained edge and he shifted warily, suddenly intensely unsure of everything happening around him.

Drizzt moved steady and slowly, not wanting to risk further upsetting the obviously unstable drow before him with any sudden movements. He took another cautious step forward towards his father, keeping his hands visible and in the air before him. The ranger’s lavender eyes were locked onto the bright crimson of the other drow and he spoke in a low voice that was calm and quiet, though he knew that the keen eared weapons master before him would have no trouble hearing every word. “Following your heart allowed me to know the truth. To know you as my father. Following your heart spared me from the cruelties of Malice. It freed me from the grasp of the drow and allowed me to escape onto the surface.” Drizzt took another cautious step and added, “You following your heart allowed me to have a life that would have never been possible in Menzoberranzan.” Drizzt straightened up, slowly lowering his hands and gave his father a meek smile. “If you had not followed your heart then I would have never known love, friendship and happiness. And I certainly have known all of those things. I ask that you have the courage and strength that I know you possess to listen to your heart once more, Zak.”

[auzaknafein]

Zak unconsciously flinched as the Drizzt’s words speared painfully through him.“More lies,” he scoffed, or tried to. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed thickly around it when he found himself unable to keep eye contact with the wrath before him, desperate for it not to see the overwhelming anguish it’s words caused. “My son is dead. Killed at the hand of drow.” He spat, voice trembling. Even as he spoke, his heart constricted, struggling against the reality of the words. Oh how Zak wished he could rip the offending thing from his chest, dash it against wall in a similar way the wrath had its weapons.  His captors had made sure to rub his face in the knowledge of his wasted sacrifice, had laughed as they detailed his son’s demise, the way his soul slowly rotted into nothing in the Wall of Faithless. He’d given up, stopped hoping a long time ago, even if his foolish heart refused to.

Zak wished they just let him die and join his son.

“What do you want with me?” he asked finally, still unable to meet those beautiful lavender eyes and that oh so familiar smile. That smile! That precious, innocent smile....Still, even now, his heart struggled. “Why do you so desire me to believe you to be my son?”

[sieged-by-fate-blog]

@auzaknafein

The camp fire cracked and bright flames danced against the darkness, softly illuminating his hard features. Here was out in the wild again chasing some big bad that warranted the attention of a demon’s spawn. 

As much as he hated being around people for too long, it was at night when long shadow cast from his father’s home could be felt, that he in his secrets of secrets wished he wasn’t alone. 

The cool night breeze felt good against his scaled skin and the rustling of the leaves helped his hot tea calm him. It would seem this journey was taking him to elves, and he was going to need all his strength and what little calm he had in him to keep it all together. 

[auzaknafein]

Zaknafein growled softly to himself as he limped deeper into the dark forest. It seemed his past was determined to dog him no matter how far he ran from it. He’d thought himself finally safe, that he’d finally managed to escape pursuit, but the figures who’d jumped him three nights prior--and were STILL pursuing him--were proving otherwise. He wasn’t sure who had originally hired the first hunters nearly a year ago, but it’d been months since he’d encountered anything more hostile than the occasional goblin or wild animal. He’d thought himself finally safe. That he’d been forgotten by whoever apparently wanted him. He’d thought wrong.

He paused a moment, leaning heavily against a tree as he panted for breath, then grudgingly pushed forward again, his left leg dragging slightly. For three days now he’d been running, with little time to rest, see to his injuries or even eat. He was flagging, losing strength and he knew it. Part of him wished to simply turn and face his tormentors head on, to show them how truly dangerous their quarry was...but he’d already tried that. He’d killed the first of them, those many months ago when this had originally began, but each time he did, the next set came at him more carefully, with more force and conviction. Better now that he kept just beyond their reach, ran them until they lost interest or he slipped from their grasp entirely. Entirely unbidden, the memory of a Hunt though Braeryn--The ‘Stenchstreets’ of Menzoberranzan-- from his younger years as a Do’Urden noble came to mind. He’d been drunk, bitter, angry and easily persuaded. It had been a game, a relief, a bloodsport hunting his own kin. He roughly pushed the image of the terrified young male he’d hunted through the streets from his thoughts. The memory of those cornered, terrified eyes would not benefit him now, nor would the bitter guilt he now felt for killing a defenseless being for sport.

So distracted and exhausted was he, that he didn’t notice the glow of the campfire until he crashed through the bushes and nearly stumbled into it. He cursed aloud as he found his footing, heart clenching as he realized he could have very easily have stumbled into the camp of the very people he was trying to escape. His hands automatically went to his weapons.