Little Fist (OPEN for those who want to play. I don't mind! :) ———————————

Beneath the streets of the wonderous city of Rhy'Din was an infinite maze of tunnels leading to hundreds and hundreds of secret places that top dwellers didn't know anything about.

Well. Most of them.

Lotha Drokk (Little Fist) knew about them. The little drow had left the market at a dead run, as fast as her thin legs could carry her, until she was out of sight from the merchant and guards chasing after her.

She skidded to a hault and peered about the corner of the glass blower's shop. Lotha's eyes narrowed and she smiled. She saw better at night than they did, watching them carrying torches and looking into doorways and down alleys three buildings behind where she was.

Then she quicly turned, reached down and pulled back a leaning piece of wood. It hid a small hole that she put her feet in first and turned the rest of herself sideways. A bit of a maneuvering and the littlest drow was out of sight uptop and dropping down into one of the tunnels below.

She grabbed a rock in her pocket with runes on it, hit the wall with it. It flared to life with a blue and white flame but didn't burn her hand. Her other fist held her pack. She was already bolting down the tunnel to keep the light from being seen, even if only by chance, and grinning all the way.

"Nerts!" Hissed out. The littlest drowess was having a time of it and the exclamation she'd made up a while ago was let loose like the worst of cuss words.

A tiny foot stomped the ground ever getting a splinter in her dark finger, third one over. She crouched down behind the booth at the market and dug a grubby finger at it until it was loose. She sucked on it then looked about with lavender eyes to see if the area was clear.

The fat merchant Human had toddled off and she had a minute or two. She looked through the glasswares and bottled. "Oh!" Hissing again when she remembered she hadn't brought her sack. But beamed to see that there was large cloth used to line a shelf to keep stuff from breaking.

She took it, filled its middle with a couple or few of the bottles and corked containers, then tied it up by its ends. Those things successfully pilfered, she stole off towards another set of shadows, then crept towards another set, smiling and smiling.

There were more areas of the open market, its shops, and store rooms to burglarize to get what she needed. Already thinking about a pin of some sort for her little cloak. Maybe some leather for the boots that were too big.

In her home, deep beneath the busy streets of RhyDin. Long ago, the paths might have been used for smuggling food and supplies in times of war or for nefarious reasons.

For the littlest drow, it was her series of hallways, byways, roadways that was used to travel almost everywhere without being seen. The height of the tunnels was no more than five and a half feet at its tallest and in particular areas, there was nothing more than cramped recesses where tunneling was never completed.

A traveler had come from a mine to the southlands of RhyDin and brought with him two bagfuls of nightstones. They were pale and only when there is darkness around them do they glow as bright as a dozen good, large candles. Lotha had taken them for the purpose of lighting the tunnels. She could see without them, if she needed to, but liked having them light the way along the main tunnels she used — always keeping one in her pack, just in case.

The hole, the lair she kept was a spot that she'd found that was an airpocket, a very small cave of sorts in the earth's stone. It had taken her almost a month to get rid of the mice, dirt, leave and other stuff animals had brought there. And longer to keep chasing them out. It was her place now! But after a while, they didn't bother coming back.

She had dragged in straw and just blankets she'd found at first, but the straw never kept well. Then she had found out that some people used animal furs to sleep on and stuffed cloth for a pillow. Lotha scoffed at the pillow, not needing it, but the furs were better than sleeping on the stone floor of her home. In the space that was five feet tall and a twenty-four foot circumference, the little drow had plenty of room.

A couple of crates were used as shelves and a larger one had a cloth over it for a table. On it was single place, a mug, and a nightstone. The shelves had all sorts of trinkets she had 'found' since she was able to walk about the lands of RhyDin. Stuff that was now hers.

It was about time.

The littlest Drow girl loved wintertime. There were more hours of darkness and easier to move about because of it. Most Humans, Elves, and others were prone to sit by the pretty, nice warm hearths and talk of love, work, or something nice.

Lotha Drokk was able to get any coins and supplies she needed when they were so distracted. She had seen the orc the day before snarling and snuffling about on the edge of the river. He seemed lost, drunk or something. Maybe he was still eating his latest kill. But she didn't care, as long as he was still there and still distracted!

She stole away from all of the lights of the city proper and headed back to the river edge where she saw the brute was in fact still there. Lotha got up behind a pile of stones, a mile marker that had tumbled to ruins ions ago from a road that had long ago grown over with grass. Reedy, thin-legged and armed, she crouched there to watch him.

He was eating the large left of something and Lotha scowled to watch him, staring at she heard crunching bones and slobbering wet of blood and flesh. The little Drow shook her head hard. He was an animal. The bon fire blazed high and noisily. Snow was a few inches deep and falling with flurries.

Then her violet eyes saw the thing dangling from the cord about his waist. The moonlight helped some to see but she could see it clearly with her set of eyes in that almost complete darkness.

The beast suddenly stopped having his dinner and threw a look down on the little Drow. A growl born of rage was hurled at her and his eyes were wide at first with surprise and then narrowed. His fist shook with the part of his meal yet unconsumed.

"ah!" Lotha startled and froze. He hadn't killed her yet, surprised without a doubt as to why she was not already dead. She took advantage of the very, very brief moment and snatched up the sheathed little hunting dagger. Then dug booted toes and balls of her feet into the snow and ground — bolting!

Lithe legs carried her as fast as she could go, getting away from the edge of the river and the enraged Orc. The city was rushed up on with blinding speed — at least to her — with the sounds of the crushing and thudding beast in pursuit. She rounded the corner of one of the buildings and darted a look around.

She spied the grate and careened towards it. Little, dark fingers pulled and pulled at the heavy grate until she loosened it and moved it. Then hauled it aside, just enough to climb into the recess below. She pulled it back into place and pushed herself back into the darkness beneath the cobblestone street.

Her heart was racing, pounding against her ribs. But she didn't stick around. If he could smell her, she was dead! So, she scurried off down the tunnel that lead to others beneath Rhydin's busy streets, clutching the sheathed little hunting dagger in triumph!