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Marek Thelarius by TheFool

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 9:47 am

Name: Marek Thelarius.
Race: Human
Age: 24

Equipment:
Brown monk robes.
Sandals
Underwear.
Pouch containing 20 Ada, kept inside his robes so as to protect from pickpockets.
A necklace, which is really just a string around his neck with the holy symbol of his faith (a rhomb within a circle) made in Adamantium on it. It’s about the size of a somewhat large coin.

Magic: Damn my auraless humanity! *Fiddles fingers frantically* It’s not working! Curses!
Beginning city Val’ravervan
Clan: Nil
Background:

Born as the fourth son of the Craftsman Matthias Johannes and his wife Elin he grew up in a rather large household. With three elder brother’s one elder sister and a little brother and a little sister he grew accustomed to a messy and lively environment. His father was a carpenter although no master and had trouble bringing in money to feed his family. They lived in one of the more fertile places on the surface, in a village, and since there were many farmers in the area and villages laid close together he had not much trouble getting work though and managed to get by barely with the help of his sons. He teached his two oldest sons in the art of carpenting and sent his third son to a blacksmith to learn that craft.

Unfortunately when he was going to decide Mareks future he hit a snag. The boy was a complete klutz with his hands, could hardly hold a hammer without dropping it on his foot and generally had horrible trouble with any craft he tried. Smith, Tailor, Carpenter, Sculptor, you name it he usually just ended up hurting himself. The boy had a bright head though, and immediately understood anything you asked of him. This coupled with a sincere and true faith in the religion of the One God made Matthias decide that if the boy couldn’t advance in the earthly realm he might as well try the spiritual. So the next time a monk came trough the village, which did not happen to often, he asked him to take in the boy and teach him to a monk. The monk, whose name was Relak Nemaril took the boy aside and had a long talk with him. They discussed religion, faith, life, everything. It took hours. Satisfied with the boy’s intelligence, enthusiasm and faith, Relak decided to approve of educating Marek as a monk. His mother packed him a lunch, and took a tearful farewell of Marek along with the rest of his family. The now 10 year old Marek then wandered with the monk to the monastery were he’d spend most of the following years of his life.

It took them two weeks to arrive and Marek was immediately given several duties. Taking them on cheerfully, he led a happy careless existence. In the first two years or so he was often allowed to visit his family. Then the visits were cut off to once or twice a year though they lasted longer. As time went on he grew more and more apart from his family. A natural process that just kind of happened. At the age of 14 he was already allowed the rank of novice and at 18 he took his vow and the name of the saint Thelarius and became a full fledged monk. The vow he took was that of modesty; never to own any more than what he can easily carry.

During this whole time he studied. He learned to read, he learned two other languages, (among them something wich looks sound and seems pretty much like latin even though it isn’t) he learned lots of theology and philosophy but also a lot of older myths and stories from far flung places, and alit about herbs, (surface herbs). He even learned a small bit of self-defence with a staff since he was often sent on errands to the surrounding villages. Basically he was supposed to be able to defend himself against some lawless turned peasant if it was absolutely necessary. He learned most about blocking, running away and first then about bashing. Oh, and during these errands he often ran, for no other reason than that he liked running and thusly soon developed a nice stamina.

Also, he became greatly skilled in cleaning and dusting and other household work and learned chanting. One skill that might be unusual is that he became a relatively good dancer. It was one of the few ‘excessives’ that the monks were allowed to do. (Instead of eating a lot of good food, or having sex, or being greedy, or going out drinking or just having fun in some frivolous manner they danced). Anyway, He learnt the textures, he prayed as he should and he remained pure. Despite all this he had problems resisting the temptations of the flesh. He was to passionate a person and soon he started to search through the inner chambers of the monastery library for books that would cling with this his passions. Books about great battles, passionate love, farflung mystical realms, places of fantasy, charming scoundrels and flamboyant lovers and enjoyers of life he sought fervently. Though he had great troubles finding any he took any chance he got. In truth he did not fit as a monk and the life of these spiritual searchers in their solitude would not do for long. Soon he would wander, that noone doubted. And yet he liked the serenity of the life and the calmness.

It was when he was on his way back to the monastery from one of his now very rare visits to his family that he discovered a drow raiding party moving trough the woods. Immediately hiding, he reminisced the words from The Maalixus Taless about The World Beneath:

[i]â€
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Kyore'saa Illhar'dro

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 9:51 am

Name: Kyore’saa Ilhar’dro

Race: Drowolath

Age: 52 (looks about 25)

Equipment:
Weapons:
Kyore’s mechanical arm conceals a retractable blade. He also has approximately 10 throwing knives hidden about his person (in his boots, various places in his clothes).
Kyore wears no armor
He wears well broken in leather traveling boots, blue spider-silk pants, a white spider-silk shirt, glasses made from blue-tinted glass (purely aesthetic, no real use), a long dark blue spider silk coat
Misc. equipment:
Guitar in a hard leather case. Case contains extra strings, spare picks, tools to replace strings.
Pack containing basic supplies, candles, water containment unit, book containing guitar tabs, spare food, approximately 100 ada, letters of rights for approximately 1000 ada at any Ilhar’dro fortress.

Magic: Basic spell songs

Beginning City: Raveran

Clan: Ilhar’dro

Background:
Kyore’saa, known by his friends as Kyore, was the first born son of his mother, the coordinator for surface trade for the Ilhar’dro clan in Raveran. During his childhood, he was constantly reminded that his mother would have preferred a daughter. Even so, he was granted the opportunity to learn the coveted spell songs. He learned to play the guitar at an early age and became quite skilled at both his instrument and singing. He was also trained in unarmed combat and throwing knives. He was taught never to strike another unless in self defense. He has kept to this code and will never initiate a fight, allowing the potential opponent the honor of the first move. He had always hoped to be one of the powerful clan musicians, but his dreams were soon shattered.

When Kyore was 16, he was traveling with his father, visiting several cities to decide where he could further his education. Along the way, Kyore’s left hand was bitten by a venomous lizard. The poison was slow moving, but they did not have the proper equipment to stop it. If they did nothing, the poison would eventually kill him. His father was forced to amputate his arm right above the elbow to prevent the spread of the infection. Kyore was bandaged and carried to the nearest city, Chel’el’sussoloth for medical attention. His arm could not be saved. The poison had caused it to decompose at an alarming rate. The golem crafters of the clan made for him a mechanical prosthetic arm to replace his old one. He once again had two arms, but he would never be able to play his guitar with the same skill.

While in Chel’el’sussoloth, Kyore resolved to spend a few years studying at Orthorbbae. The masters were impressed by his academic and physical prowess. He soon found himself in the more advanced classes for most subjects. Unfortunately, he was unable to play his guitar with the same precision with his new arm. Even after years of study he could still only play the most basic of spell songs, certainly nothing compared to the songstresses his own age. After 20 years of study, he left Orthorbbae and Chel’el’sussoloth. He would not return for many years.

The next 10 years of his life were spent traveling to the many cities of the underworld and learning from other cultures. He became well versed in the many languages of other races. He could hold conversations with other races with competence and was able to talk his way out of many sticky situations. Over the years, he was able to gain better control over the use of his mechanical arm. It was almost as if he had his old arm back, well . . . not exactly. His musicianship improved somewhat with his greater control over his arm. It was still not as good as it would have been if he had his original arm, but it was an improvement.

His eventual return to Raveran is a good tale in and of itself. In one of the outlying drow cities, he became acquainted with a Vloz’ress nether summoner. She was young and beautiful. He was significantly younger and quite handsome. Their relationship went well, that is, it went well until he tried to leave. He never thought he would be able to escape her wrath. She and her minions chased him throughout the underworld. He was not quite sure exactly how he managed to stay one step ahead of them, but he did stay ahead for quite some time. He was almost to Raveran when they caught up to him. The chase ended with a dead sprint into the Ilhar’dro fortress, where he was able to take refuge. Her thirst for his blood was sated with more than a little bribery. To this day, he is always wary of any Vloz’ress he meets. He is careful never to mention his former . . . mistress.

Kyore spent the remaining six years in Raveran performing his musical talents and honing his martial skills. Although he was not as skilled as a fully trained songtress, he was still able to impress many an audience at the Raveranian. He has performed at a few parties and has received many compliments. Mostly, they are complimenting the fact that he can still play with a mechanical arm, such things as ‘rising above his limitations,’ or ‘making the best of his situation.’ He knows they all look down on him. They don’t realize how much he wants his old arm back.

Recently, Kyore has made the journey back to Chel’el’sussoloth. He has been spending the last couple days at the Ilhar’dro fortress and plans to go out to the Black Dragon Tavern tonight. Perhaps they will allow him to play for the patrons. People always seemed to drink more when they were being entertained.

Personality, Religious, and Political views
Kyore is a humorous fellow, and is always quick to smile. He will tell jokes while strumming chords on his guitar, always trying to brighten people’s day. He will never instigate a conflict and will always try to talk his way out of trouble before exchanging blows.
He is not religious, preferring to go about life without the burden of religion. His music is his own religion.
He will share a drink with almost anyone from any clan. He is, however, very wary of the Vloz’ress clan and will go out of his way to avoid them. He doesn’t know how many heard about his ‘encounter’ with the nether summoner, but he would prefer not to press his luck. The last thing he wants is to end up at the mercy of a Vloz’ress seeking vengeance.

Description:
Kyore is approximately 1.7 meters in height. He is of average build, well toned, but not muscular. He is fast, though, both with his hands and his feet.
Kyore has dark blue eyes that fade to green in the inner iris.
He has shoulder length hair which he lets fall freely. It is white and dark blue at the tips.
Kyore wears blue pants, black boots, a white shirt and a long dark blue coat. He also wears his blue-tinted glasses.
From just above his elbow, his left arm is a mechanical prosthetic. It is embossed with the Ilhar’dro crest.
He has a golden nose ring in his left nostril and a single golden earring in his right ear.
He has the great bird (wish I knew what species it was) of the Ilhar’dro clan tattooed across his chest in ice blue. He has dwarven runes tattooed in white on his left arm. The runes read: “This is the fellow who played us some music and bought us some drinks. What a nice guy.â€
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Red'aal Kya'gyaku Vel'Vloz'ress by Sarah

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 9:55 am

Name: Red'aal Kya'gyaku Vel'Vloz'ress

Race: Xuile'Solen (tainted)

Age: 77 (appears to be in mid to late 20's)

Equipment: Double-bladed staff (large blade on each end), cloak, long dagger, pouch with the following items: two black gem stones, bandages, spicy spider legs, a grilled puff, and a healing balm

Magic: None

Occupation: Soul Seeker

Beginning city: Chel'el'sussoloth

Clan: Vel'Vloz'ress

Background: Redda Var'eth began her life in the dark slums of Chel'el'sussoloth with her Sightless mother, Lalza'rielle. Her father, Vai'karo, she never knew...according to Lalza he had supposedly got into a fight at the Black Dragon Tavern with a Sarghress mercenary, and ultimately lost his head. So Redda never did obtain a father figure in her life...actually she didn't really have a good mother either.

Her mother was a merchant, she traveled around from place to place with her goods, dragging Redda along with her. Due to their race's reputation and the fact that she had limited items...they really only made enough to feed themselves, which caused much problems with their business and small family.

Lalza'rielle was always reclusive, always focused on her work, and on new ways to make money. So she and Redda never developed much of a relationship. Hell, she cared next to none for the girl, seeing her as nothing but another mouth to feed, a side annoyance that was just kind of there. So must of the time, while Lalza was busy with the shop, Redda was off playing with her own imagination, or practicing with a kris dagger that once belonged to her father. Basically teaching herself a few basic self defense moves.

It continued like this for the first nine years of her life. Until Lalza'rielle basically went crazy one day with the lack of ada, and kicked Redda out on her own to fend for herself.

Redda was already bitter from lack of attention and nurturing. This only increased it. For a few days she went around desperately asking shop owners if they needed a helping hand, for food rather than ada even. All she got was a shudder torwards her looks and was shooed away.

Finally Redda sold her father's dagger in order to feed herself. She was angered by having to do this and decided to stop being nice. She found herself swiping lost items, and items from shops, commoners, and nobles alike.

Things continued this way...occassionally managing to find temporary jobs when food was still scarce, until a few days after her seventeenth birthday. She was standing near a food shop, where a Vloz'ress mercenary was buying food for what looked to be him and a few others. He had purchased some bread first and put it in a pouch on his belt. Redda smelled it and slipped in silently to grab the pouch and take off. However the mercenary heard her foot against the stone and grabbed her arm before she could get a hold of it.

"Hey, you little thief! What do you think you're-?! Hm...a sightless drow, eh?!" said the mercenary. "Ahh!! Let me go you big dumbass!!" yelled Redda, not exactly the smartest thing to say in her situation. "You little freak!!" With those words the mercenary began to draw his sword. "WAIT!! I'm sorry, please don't kill me!! I'll do anything!! Please!!" The mercenary made a pondering look. "Hmm...anything?" "Yes!!!" screamed Redda. "Heh, come with me then."

Redda found herself being dragged by the arm someplace. She couldn't see anything of course, but at the smell of fire, smoke, and rotting flesh, horrible realization overcame her. The Vloz'ress fortress. The mercenary stopped infront of the gate, and Redda was handed something heavy. A short sword the mercenary had in a sheath, strapped on his left leg. "Here. I'm going inside to eat and play cards with some friends of mine. YOU guard the gate for the rest of the night. This job sucks and I need a break once in a while."

Redda did NOT want to hear that. "...but...what....what if someone ATTACKS or something?! I'm too small to fight!" The mercenary smirks, removing his helmut and mockingly dropping it on Redda's head. "Tough shit, and if you leave...a bunch of us mercenaries will hunt you down." With that the mercenary rushes inside the fortress, leaving Redda standing infront of the gate, her mouth hanging open in shock.

With little else to do, Redda stood near the gate, looking rather silly with oversized horned helmut covering the top of her face. For about six hours nothing happened, but then a noble woman was coming back from what looked like a war, her clothes were slightly tattered and she was filthly. She immediately noticed the small, armorless, Xuile'Solen, "soldier" sitting by the gate, and walks up to her. "Aren't you a little YOUNG to be a mercenary?" asks the noble, one eyebrow raised up high at the sight before. "Ummm....I....am just repaying a debt..." mumbles Redda, humiliated. The noble laughs. Her laugh was very strange and over-enthusiastic. She was apparently a few cards short of a full deck. "If you want to be a warrior THAT badly than at least get some proper training and become one when you're older." The noble scratches her chin, appearing to be deep in thought for a moment. "Hmm...come with me little sightless girl." "....but...I am supposed to..." "Just come." She insists.

The woman's name was Xylia. A Nether Summoner of the Vloz'ress subhouse, Kya'gyaku. She also had a Soul Seeker bodyguard and mate. The heavily tainted Ba'al, whom was always by her side. These two drow would become twisted versions of a mother and father to Redda.

While Ba'al was Xylia's mate, she had recently found out that she, herself, couldn't bare children. So in interest of having some sort of apprentice, she decided to sort of adopt Redda and give her special training as a mercenary, with permission from her mother of course. Redda wasn't very interested in this at first, but knowing that mercenary's get paid, she did not rebel.

Redda's name was changed to Red'aal Kya'gyaku, but was called "Red" for short.

Two mercenaries that have worked at the Vloz'ress fortress for a long time were hired to train Red'aal, they were men named Fhor'ves and Ilphen.They were extremelly impatient with Red, her lack of eyes making her harder to train. While Illphen would mostly just stand off to the side and yell insults or joking remarks, Fhor'ves would do most of the actual training, often hitting Red when he was frustrated. Even though Red did learn much through time, she grew to hate the two men.


When Red'aal actually got a break from training, she would often have schooling with Xylia. She would learn about the world, the clans, and many other things, but mostly she learned about the Vloz'ress religion. Now maybe it was because of her strange teacher, or that Red had nothing else to turn to, but she ended up taking a great interest in demons and the netherworld. She would also often just stare at Ba'al the Soul Seeker after learning about what he does, despite the fact that he was basically a mindless zombie.

This would be the lifestyle that Red'aal would stick with. She slowly began to become more skilled and strong. Sometimes, even when she was younger, she would be told to cover for guards who died or dissapeared until a new one was hired. Red ended up forgetting about making money...for her obsession with the Vloz'ress had grown, as had her hate for her two male trainers, and as had her insanity.

Finally, when Red'aal was fourty, she gained a bit of favor from the mother of the Kya'gyaku, Gail'kotsu Vel'Vloz'ress, and got a more permanent position as a guard in the fortress, near Gail'kotsu's chambers. She would also often go with Vloz'ress caravans, or on heretic hunts, and even particapated, with much zealous, in fights against the Val'Kyorl'sulenurn.

She would still SOMETIMES have training sessions with Fhor'ves and Illphen, but she had gotten so crazy that they no longer wanted to be near her. Often when training would start, and before Fhor'ves could get out any real pointers, Red would try to lick him in the face several times with her long tongue, freaking them both out and making them give up in advance.

The two of them tried one last time to train Red, when she was pushing her late fourties. Red actually tried to listen, since she had been getting frustrated with her own self-teachings. However, things returned to the way they once were, and Fhor'ves became angry with Red and slapped her hard across the face. After being smacked, she grabbed the sword he was training her with from his hands and impaled him through the stomach, proceeding to slice him open. Illphen fled immediately after that, leaving Red to further chop Fhor'ves into pieces. He never returned to the Vloz'ress fortress in fear of her.

Red also did spot the mercenary that made her guard the fortress when she was young, but decided not to confront him...for if it wasn't for him she wouldn't of became a Vloz'ress.

Twelves years into Red'aal's life as a mercenary, Xylia was killed in a battle against the Val'Kyorl'sulenurn, by an unknown Drowussu. Red sometimes brings gifts to the place that Xylia was slayed, saying that "she was the one who gave my life a purpose".

Red'aal eventually started going on more missions than guarding the fortress, savagely ripping apart all of her victims with her staff. When fights were over, she would show off body parts, like the head, to everyone...and even take them to the fortress as her own personal trophies. After Nether Summoners witnessed this, it was suggested to Gail'kotsu that she be "promoted".

So, at 75, Red'aal was tainted and she stopped being a guard, now obeying the orders of the Nether Summoners as a Soul Seeker. Since she is incapable of magic, she doesn't seal away the aura of her victims, but rather just brings back body parts as an offering.

Red'aal has been a Soul Seeker for two years now.

Description:
Height: 5'7
Weight: 122 pounds
No eyes.
Hair Colour: Blood red with black streaks
Appearance: Red'aal isn't really that bad looking for a Xuile'Solen, but still would get a shudder before a wolf whistle. However she has a rather elegant and low voice, and is very well built. She has a purple tongue, and always has an upside-down, triangular looking, black, tattoo on her left face cheek.
Her hair goes down past her lower back. It often gets in her face but, having no eyes, this doesn't bother her much. Red has a mask but dislikes wearing it, sometimes wearing head protection instead.
(I will make a new picture of Red soon.)
When not on a mission she likes to wear tight, shiny, spider silk or leather outfits with bits of armor here and there. Usually black or red.

Personality: Red is usually very quiet and independant, but likes to get involved in things she's interested in. She is very insane, in a conversation she often has random shifts in mood, be it anger or strange happiness...and likes to use her tongue. She is apathetic around Drowolath, midly amused by Ver'drowendar, and very hateful torwards Drowussu..even though she isn't one to walk up to them and start a fight at a community place. She enjoys meeting other Xuile'solen.
Even though Red keeps to herself, she enjoys being out and about as much as she can.
She likes little things like the smell of perfumes (except the Kyorl'sulenurn incense), the taste of blood, feeling the backs of animals, and the sound of skulls cracking.
She also likes to collect body parts for her chambers, particularly bones.

Xian wrote:Sarah: Very good, Sarah. Very good.

You forgot to mention that you are tainted (this is a requirement for being a soul-seeker), but I'll just assume it was sort of abstractly included in her little "promotion". Yes, Xuile'Solen can be tainted, although obviously, sans eyes, one would need to be properly trained to detect this.

Guess what?

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Honglath Du'ased'rah Val'Kyorl'Solenurn by Solufien

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 10:01 am

Name: Honglath Du'ased'rah Val’Kyorl’Solenurn
Race: Drowussu
Age: 40
Gender: Male
Clan: Val’Kyorl'Solenurn
Beginning City: Chel’el’sussoloth
Weapons: Steel long sword 'Justicar', steel lance ‘Rihtwis’.
Equipment: Steel plate mail with white garments & helmet, 100 ada, bandages.
Magic: Weapon Enchantment.
Abilities: Basic cooking, 1st Aid, flute, unicorn riding, unicorn care, ‘Knight’ fighting style.
Occupation: Holy Lance
Steed: Armoured Underworld Unicorn ‘Luth'ol’

Background: Honglath is the first person in the Du'ased'rah sub-family to become a Holy Lance, those templars and wardens chosen to ride a unicorn into battle. This is considered a great honour by most, as very few have the ability to control a unicorn under any circumstance.

The circumstances of his birth were saddening. His mother, Judicator-Ilhar Ultrinnan Du'ased'rah, died given birth to him and his uncaring sister Dalharil raised him. As the third and last child of a Judicator-Ilhar, the manner of his early childhood was strict and unkind. Only his father, a relatively young templar called S'gos S'lat'halin, showed him any real love, and he was usually busy serving as a templar. All this did was make Tyrion feel as if nobody cared for him.

It was when he was 10 that Sharess looked upon him more favourably. While on an errand he got lost in the Kyorl’Solenurn hold and found himself in the stables. There he found himself attached to one of the unicorns, a colt named Luth'ol. When his father found him there, he asked the new Judicator-Ilhar, Honglath’s oldest sister Ku'nal Du'ased'rah, that he be trained as a Holy Lance. Though reluctant to lose a potential templar, she realised he would work better with his new friend then with a warden and accepted.

His training started the very next day. The first thing he had to learn was how to care for his future steed and how to ride him; and he amazed his trainers by the fact he bonded with Luth'ol so quickly. Even at such a young age he treated it as if it were more like a long lost brother, and more then once he was thought to have some sort of animal empathy. Next came the stuff all male nobles had to learn, like 1st Aid and basic cooking, as he is expected to be able to live separated from his clan for long periods of time. And lastly, he had to learn how to fight like a Holy Lance. Using the ‘Knight’ fighting style, Honglath learned how to drive his lance right though enemy lines, and to use his longsword to fight when he could no longer charge while Luth'ol trampled on his enemies. This was supplemented by his magical training, for as a Holy Lance, his magic is based around using his mana to enchant his weapons, so that they can go through armour or be set alight etc.

All this occurred until his 39th birthday. Like all potential Holy Lances, he had to leave the safety of the hold and make a name for himself. This final test lasts a year, where he had to prove himself worthy of the rank Holy Lance, or die in the attempt. Most of this was filled with adventure for Honglath. Sometimes he was a caravan guard, other times he was a squire of sorts to elder Holy Lances, or other times he was just another adventurer doing what he thought were good deeds.

The deed that confirmed his success happened a week before his 40th birthday. He was guarding an Illhar’dro noble on her way home from a trip to Val’Ravaren when they were ambushed by a Vloz’ress raiding party. As he quickly realised she was the most important cargo, Honglath decided not to fight all ten of them by himself. Instead he insisted that she abandon her cargo, jump on his unicorn, and get out while they still could. Though she was reluctant, the Illhar’dro saw the evil glint in the their eyes, and agreed that if they stayed, they would have the cargo anyway. And so they bolted, which was a good thing considering one of them was a Scourge that tried to open a gate on them.

It took two days for them to reach the relative safety of Chel’el’sussoloth. As he was wounded badly, Honglath was forced to rest in the Illhar’dro hold for five days before he was allowed to leave. As a reward for saving her (and as a surprise birthday present), the Illhar’dro woman gave him a sword which was as beautiful as only an Illhar’dro crafted item can be. But that was nothing compared to what was waiting for him at home.

There he received a warm welcome from his trainers and his family. Having heard of his deeds, his Judicator-Illhar Ku'nal Du'ased'rah and his head trainer Warden Elamshinae Mrigg decided he had earned the rank of Holy Lance. He was given all the rights and privileges that went with the rank, most importantly the right to his own lance, which he named Rihtwis.

This day was about a month ago. Since then he was cooled his heels waiting for something exciting to happen.

Description:
Height: 5 ft 4
Weight: 127 pounds
Eye Colour: Dark Green
Hair colour: Streaks of black and dark green, but mostly undyed. Fairly long and straight, but tied up like a ponytail.
Appearance: For the most part he looks like most Holy Lances with his full plate, his horned helmet, his armoured unicorn, nothing makes him stand out.

Personality: Honglath is a loner even among Holy Lances, who considers his unicorn practically a brother. Though he will fight with others, he prefers to do things himself. When he does talk with others, he is bluntly honest but tries not to offend anyone. Whenever he is in a discussion, he tries to see both sides and give advice to both. Generally, his attitude is one of calm acceptance; but on the rare occasions he loses his cool; his rage is of daemonic proportions.

Though a loner, Honglath is willing to be a great friend to those that earn his trust. Aside from Luth'ol, he is a friend to most of his comrades and his family. Also, he is on good terms with the Illhar’dro, and is occasionally used as a messenger between the Kyorl’Solenurn and the Illhar’dro.

His attitude towards his clan’s enemies is a touch liberal. For while sees the Jaal’Darya as unnatural abominations that must be destroyed on sight, he sees most of the tainted as victims. It is even rumoured that he had previously let those he saw innocent (children that didn’t choose to be tainted for the most part) go. At the moment, there is little evidence to support this, but some wardens are itching to sic an inquisitor onto him.

Despite the rumours, his piety and loyalty is beyond question. He'd sooner die then allow himself or anyone else to be tainted, and will kill any fool that insults his clan in front of him. And he always prays everyday to both the Holy Eye and Sharess the Fueryon'jabbress (Beast Mistress).

When he isn’t in the middle of a mission, he is either tending to Luth'ol, practising his skills, or just playing the flute the Illhar’dro noble gave him.

Timezone: New Zealand Time (GMT + 12 hours)

Xian wrote:Solufien: Solid.

Approved.

No, wait.

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Xarell Nissa by Earthenflame

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 10:06 am

Name: Xarell Nissa
Race: Drowolath
Age: 44
Magic: none
Beginning City: Chel'el'sussoloth.
Clan: None

Background:

Xarells parents were Vish’na and Y’kava. Her father Vish’na was a sergeant and her mother Y’kava was a captain, both on 5 year leave from their mercenary company. Y’kava was a tactical genius, quickly analysing a situation and knowing how to deal with it, while Vish’na was a squad level leader, controlling and encouraging his men, knowing each one of their strengths and weaknesses, using each man to his best effectiveness, and exceptionally skilled at pulling off his mates tactical plans. Their daughter was looked after well for the 5 years in Chel’el’sussoloth, and carried her with their Entourage for their next 20 year spell in the company.

Her mother taught her tactics and command, and also taught her the strengths and limitations of different types of fighting. Her father handled her combat training, letting her test out and use many different types of weapon before she finally settled on the Wazikashi. He then showed her how to parry and execute ripostes. She loved her parents dearly, and was the company mascot, a little child, practising with a blade, running to follow her parent’s footsteps. To Xarella her parents were twin avatars of war, the tactician and the warrior, perfect harmony between them, invulnerable to harm. Yet at the same time they were loving and caring, consoling her and encouraging her, and helping her succeed

When she returned to Chel’el’sussoloth her parents kept up her training regime, teaching her about the tactics of each of the clan armies, and the weapons and armour they used. One day, when watching her daughter practice with the Wazikashi she realised how graceful and smooth her movements were, and used quite a bit of her savings to buy her daughter into dancing lessons. At first Xarell was sceptical, as she saw a definite future as a mercenary, but her mother explained that you must always have another path, if war and mercenary life started to become unprofitable, what would happen to those who had no alternative? With Xarells grace and skill she could become an expert dancer, while the lessons on body control would increase her combat effectiveness. She accepted and enrolled in the academy.

She started off behind all the others in her class, in most cases lesser nobles, or the daughters of rich merchants, but her extraordinary agility and finesse allowed her to master it faster than those who had been practicing for years. At first the nobles looked down on her and the merchants children were scared by the fact she was a mercenary’s daughter. However, over time she won the merchants over by dispelling some of their stereotypes and discrediting the rumours.

The nobles were a different story. No matter how hard she tried, she could not win them over with personality, and resolved to win them over with skill. She trained harder than ever, using her warriors body to execute fast and dangerous manoeuvres more fluently than anyone in the class.

She slowly won over most of lesser nobility, until only a limited clique of the Haughtiest nobles still acted condescendingly to her. The leader of the group was named Ta’nari, and Xarell decided to show up the nobles by beating her. At a practical exam, that was also competitive, the students had to follow a teachers moves as long and as well as possible. Most of the students dropped out until only Xarell and Ta’nari were left not willing to lose to each other. Eventually, after a nearly an hour, Ta’nari slipped and fell, her stamina sapped and her strength depleted. Xarell passed with the highest place and was then accepted. The nobles spoke respectfully to her, and the traders were fully in awe. During this time, her parents purchased a small apartment and lived there, free from all responsibility and work. After this time or relaxation they went to the academy and watched the graduation dance and marvelled at their daughter’s agility and finesse. After this Xarell bade farewell to her friends from the academy, and has not seen any since, though she has had limited correspondence with a few, surprisingly but in particular Ta’nari, who is now a minor noble in the Sulissin’rune clan.

When the company passed Chel’el’sussoloth again, she and her parents rejoined them, and instead of a mascot she now had work to do. She ran errands for the officers, helped smiths with standard repair and maintenance, and also looted the battlefield after skirmishes. She was happy with her work, but kept up her weapon training, and her dancing. She also fell in love with the youngest male in the company, Tulien, a year older than her, who had seen her dancing in the night. Tulien was kind but ambitious, and sparred with Xarell to help her training. This relationship was kept secret from her colleagues and parents, as she was not sure what they’d think. The other mercenaries treated her kindly, and encouraged her to keep practising.

At the age of 36 she was given full active status, and assigned to her father’s squad, just in time to be hired to help a trade caravan along a route where dwarven raids were common. There was only one such raid on this contract, but it resulted in the death of Tulien, the first in a long series of loss, and the start of her fear of loving too much. After the battle, when checking the bodies for weapons and items of value, she found an old and rusted Sickle. She put it in her pack and over the course of a few weeks, restored it and then decided to use it. Helped by her friends and her parents, she began to train to use it on its own, and in conjunction with her Wazikashi.

A few years and many minor contracts later, her company was hired to guard a party of relic hunters, searching for artefacts in newly discovered ruins on the surface. At this time the company numbered about 100 mercenaries, and the relic hunters were confident that that would be enough to beat off any raids or assaults. Xarell was curious about the relic hunter, as she had heard tales of the great treasures of the surface, but never seen any. She talked to the relic hunters and listened to their stories, hearing about the strange peoples and buildings, the deserts and the great open skies.

Xarell was intrigued, as this would be her first long term surface trip. However, it was a difficult one. Light elf raiders made hit and run assaults on the party taking casualties but inflicting them every time. Xarell despised these light elves, who she saw attacking without cause or provocation, and killing her friends in lightning raids. The company had lost a quarter of its number when a light elf force of about 150 warriors attacked them in a valley. Xarell was near the back of the column, her father further up, near her mother. A mage in light leather armour, holding a pair of glowing rubies, summoned a stream of fire, rolling down hill and killing 5 mercenaries, including Xarells mother and father. All Xarell could see was a sudden rush of flame and the glowing embers of her friends and family fading. The mage moved down the hill to the centre of the valley, summoning a similar spell to the first. Xarell, with a scream of rage, ran forward and threw her blades into the heart of the fireball the mage was summoning. With a deafening explosion, she was hurled away, falling behind a cluster of rocks and became unconscious as soon as she had hit the ground. A few seconds later, the rubies released all the mana stored, killing all who were left in the valley.

When Xarell woke up, night had fallen and the battle was over. Her right arm was broken and skin scorched and sore. The valley was charred, but she had been spared the main wrath of the explosion by the stones she had fallen behind after the first fireball. She wandered among the bodies, seeing her friends and enemies, all destroyed by a final spell of vengeance. She searched her parent’s bodies and found a pair of flawless emeralds, identical and unmarked, that had been protected by their fallen armour. She also found the rubies that had fuelled the mages fire, now drained and useless, and she did not have the skill to recharge them.

She also found two lumps of molten metal, all that remained of her weapons. She salvaged rations, a blade and quite a few ada from the bodies, then made her way back to the underground entrance. on the way back to the entrance she learned a great deal about survival, not only finding food but fighting with the left arm, and she is now functionally ambidextrous.

She reached Chel’el’sussoloth a month later, tired and hungry, though her arm had been set by a group of traders she met near the surface. She used most of the scavenged ada to buy a new pair of weapons, named for her parents and with the emeralds of their life and the rubies of their death inset in their hilts. Though the gems are now purely ornamental, the knowledge that they are her parent’s legacy gives her the strength to carry on. With the sickle Vish’na and the Wazikashi Y’kava she had a couple of small jobs for the few years in Chel’el’sussoloth, and stays in the small apartment her parents acquired for the years they stayed on leave.

She has stayed with small jobs and not put herself in the spotlight, always appearing aloof and powerful, a mercenary. However, no one knows that she still cries in her sleep, seeing the horrible moment when everyone she loved burned to death in that dreadful valley. She is too independent to join a clan, and feels it would be a betrayal of her parent’s memory; however she does not have her mother’s tactical genius or her father’s immense charisma, and so is not suited for a leader. She has been contemplating joining the val’sarghess, but is still insure whether it would be the right decision.

In the past few years she has bought and trained with three adamant throwing knives, always carefully retrieving them and keeping them maintained and ready. Currently, she is looking for work as her jobs keep expiring. She has few acquaintances and no friends (as of yet) and is very slow to trust. Most think this is because she is a mercenary, and is naturally wary, and few suspect it is trying to avoid another loss, reasoning that if she never loved anybody she could never lose anybody.

Equipment: paired Wazikashi and Sickle, three throwing knives in shoulder holster, 64 ada, weapon maintenance kit, flint and tinder, basic rations, mercenary signet. In her apartment she has a few changes of clothes and some food, but is currently on a tight budget

Description:
Height: 5 foot 11
Eye Colour: Violet
Hair Colour: Stripes of red and green
Appearance: lithe and wary, wearing tight leather armour, with metal plates and studs sown in. wears a cloak with two coloured stripes coming from each shoulder (red and green) to hide her two blades. Her hair is worn loose, cascading down her back. She has a thin wary face, but has no scars visible. Though she is fast and agile, her armour isn’t very strong and she does not have the constitution to take many hits.

Xian wrote:Earthenflame: Now this is a submission. I'm really impressed with this; I don't think I've seen anything so comprehensive or realistic or sequential in a long time. Good show.

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Nal'relka Val'sarghress by Glyph

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 10:13 am

Name: Nal'Relka Val'Sarghress

Race: Drowoloth
Gender: Female
Age: 45

Equipment:
70 ada and 50 gold coins in a pouch hanging on her belt.
Personal suit of highland raider armor. Worn nearly constantly.
Steel short sword, worn with armor.
Adamantium dagger, always carried with armor or without.
Fancy spidersilk cloak, for the city.
Reversable spidersilk cloak, dark gray on one side, uneven greens on the other. Used while away on duty. Kept in room at barracks when off duty.
Two Soulmir, crafted onto the back of her armor gauntlets.
Heavy backpack, not usually worn off duty.
Belt
A fancy ivory necklace for formal occasions.
Two nice spidersilk dress, often kept in her room at the barracks.
Camping gear (tent, bedroll, a few days worth of rations). At barracks.
Personal journal kept in backpack.
50 feet of spidersilk rope, normally in backpack.


Magic: Traditional summoning (Elendlari)

Beginning City: Val'Reveran

Clan: Val'Sarghress


Background:
Nal'Relka was born to a minor sub-family of the Val'Sarghress clan, the second of two daughters. Her mother a noble in name only, with no special influence or powers. Her bloodline had given the Sarghress many skilled squad leaders and guard captains throughout the centuries, but no one in the family had ever risen very high in the ranks beyond that. Just a step up from the grunts and loyal to the Ilharess to a fault. Her mother was (and still is) a skilled warrior and had been the captain of a squad of highland raiders for several decades, actually receiving a commendation once for saving the lives of her troops from a ambush by a large group of Streekaider. The birth of her first child made her leave the raiders and ask for reassignment in the city so she could stay with her family. So her mother became a patrol leader in the city. Her first child was sired by one of her fellow highland raiders, the two parting on friendly terms when her mother left the raiders to settle down a bit. Nal'Relka's father was just some lucky guard. She has never met her father personally and only rarely even thinks about him.

By the time Nal'Relka was born her mother had advanced a bit further and was a highly respected trainer for the city guards. As is traditional, her older sister Sharyka raised her instead of her mother. Her older sister having become a soldier in her own right by now and had been assigned to train some of the war meat in proper combat skills. This unappealing job was necessary, but not exactly the prime assignment for someone who wanted to make a name for herself in the clan. It did leave Sharyka a good amount of free time to look after her younger sister. Nal'Relka's first memories in life were of her sister reading stories of battles to her as a child. Straight out of the clan's history, not edited for a young child. Her older sister a strict, but loving presence that always encouraged her to try her hardest at everything. Once she could walk her sister had her exercising every day and once she learned how to read books and history was added to her activities. Mostly tales of the clan's great victories and defeats as well. The young girl literally growing up on stories of honor, battle, and triumph over great odds. Her family true believers in the most idealistic view of their clan possible.

These tales and baised histories inspired Nal'Relka to do her best so as to not shame her clan. For the first decade of her life her sister kept her activities simple, but intense. Physical training and studying, often at the same time, to force her younger sibling to build up both body and mind. No weapon training or specific avenue of scholarly study. Just a basic foundation to allow the young girl to follow whatever path she decided to pursue later in life. On Nal'Relka's tenth birthday she finally met her mother personally, only having caught glimpses of her before. Her mother asked her what she wanted most in life. This was an easy question, as her sister had told her of the many adventures of the highland raiders on the surface world that their mother had experienced. "I want to serve the clan as a highland raider!" Was the eager response from the young girl. Both mother and older sister found this quite acceptable and Nal'Relka was added to the newest group of young recruits for that elite group.

Most highland raiders were older drow that had been in some other profession before wanting to travel and see new sights. Yet a good number were trained as children as the skills a highland raider needs are best taught in the younger years to assure a raider reaches her full potentional. Nal'Relka entered into the training with a passion. Determined to become a young lady worthy of her clan, Ilharess, and mother. The results were mixed. During the ten years of training in weapon combat, stealth, self-sufficency, and all the other skills a highland raider needs, Nal'Relka only managed to barely pass the tests. Her enthsusiam was second to none, but she had almost no talent for any of it. The other students (and teachers) were not sure what to make of her. Her classmates were a tad wary of such a determined girl and had only brief conversations with her. Nal'Relka had almost no close friends among her peers during those years. The extra effort she needed to keep up with them not leaving much time or energy for social activities. Her teachers somethings gently suggesting some other career choice for the young girl, which she always firmly refused.

At the graduation, where the students who passed all the tests would be assigned to their posts. The most talented going straight to raider squads, the rest to other posts for more experience before joining the elite raiders. Nal'Relka was a bit more complicated and the teacher met with her mother and older sister to decide what should be done. With her current level of fighting skills she would be allowed into the raiders given a few more years, but it was unlikely she would ever rise above the lowest rank of that group. It was obvious she wanted more then that, yet all the adults were at a loss. Perhaps magical training would be best? Send her off to study under a faen or sorceress. Great skill in magic would be an acceptable conpensation. Nal'Relka was present at the meeting, but mostly ignored while the adults were talking. At the mention of magic she thought for a bit while her future was discussed. Finally she spoke up and loudly demanded to be trained as a summoner! That being the most powerful area of magic she could think of at the time. This suprised the three adults and worried her mother quite a bit. Demon summoning would be too dangerous and that would require her to be sent to Orthorbae, which was firmly in the domain of the Sharen. Plus it would mean she would be tainted and that was not acceptable either.

The teacher who had trained her as a highland raider gave her respects and said that she would be willing to recommend Nal'Relka for most assignments her mother decided on, but said this decsion was a family one and left. Her mother and sister sat in silence for quite some time after that. Finally, Nal'Relka's older sister spoke up after a moment, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "What about the arts of more tradional summoning?" She said softly. Nal'Relka hadn't know there were different kinds of summoning, so just listened as her older sister presented her thoughts. Demon summoning wouldn't really be much use to someone who travels on the surface much, as demons drain mana and attack auras. Both of which are rare in many of the places the highland raiders go. Yet the traditional arts summon creatures to fight for the summoner, and that would be much more useful. After almost an hour of debate their mother finally agreed.

A teacher was found in the city who would be willing to teach a young Sarghress girl the old ways of summoning, but for a fairly steep price. The student would have to come live with the Shin'nala (the summoner) and only be able to see her family once a month. Nal'Relka agreed and insisted that she go to learn. The desire to prove herself burning bright inside her, made all the brighter by the barely-average results of her raider training. So she was sent to the summoner with only a few possessions and a good amount of money to pay her way. The twenty-year old girl hopeful that this training would go better then the last. However it was not what she expected. The summoner's real reason for accepting her as a student was less then wholesome. She had a taste for young girls and the physically ten-year-old Sarghress was just her type.

Nal'Relka spent a full fifteen years with Shin'nala learning the ancient summoning arts. However between lessons she lived as a slave. Both abused and entrapped by the elder drow's twisted games. Since this was right when Nal'Relka was starting to go through puberty, it resulted in her getting some twisted ideas of intimate relationships herself. That was for later though. During those years as a sexual plaything it was just something to endure. She learned more about resisting pain and concentrating on her studies through distractions in those many long years then in the previous half of her life. As her new 'mistress' would often combine her teaching summoning with one or more of her 'games'. On her monthly visits home she never spoke of the details of her training, simply putting on a happy face and reasuring her older sister that everything was going fine. Her mother not usually having the time to meet her daughter in person.

Other then those brief day-long visits home each month, her teacher didn't let her out at all. So a decade and a half passed as a blur of the same few rooms rooms, alternating pain and lust, and the study of magic. Needless to say, she was extremely focused on her magical studies. Nal'Relka proved to be only slightly more talented at magic then with weapons, but her near fanatical devotion to her studies allowed her to learn much. The last year was spent entirely secluded with her mistess/teacher. Not even visiting her family, but sending only letters to her family. Her mother had finally heard some of the rumors of why (summoner's name) had been forced to leave her clan and was starting to get worried. She was about to send her eldest daughter to go find her youngest, when Nal'Relka showed up by herself.

Nal'Relka showed up at one of the war meat camps surrounding the Sarghress fortress (the one her sister was still in charge of) one the morning of her thirty-fifth birthday. She was bruised, bleeding, in torn clothes, and still wearing a few of her former teacher's restraints. Yet she had finally developed into a lovely and proud adult, finally willing and able to meet her sister's gaze as an equal. She wouldn't talk about what had happened to put her in such a state, but carried an adamantium dagger and a ruby soulmir as if they were trophies. When her mother finally arrived she demonstrated her abilities as a summoner. Pulling forth the soul captured in the ruby she possessed. A giant lizard the size of a tiger appearing at her command and disappearing back into the ruby soulmir as readily.

During that last year her training became less focussed and more of a virtual enslavement, Shin'nala getting more and more abusive because she knew that she had run out of things to teach Nal'Relka and refused to let her favorite toy escape. It took some time for Nal'Relka to realize that her teacher/mistress was just stalling and had nothing useful left to show her. The last few letters sent to her family were fakes, as she was not allowed to so much freedom as to wander the allowed rooms. Finally she came to the conclusion that there was nothing more to learn and that she no longer had to endure her teacher's treatment anymore. Taking advantage of one of Shin'nala's trips away, she broke free of the restraits she was secured in and tried to escape. Shin'nala's favorite pet was a small lizard that had been payment from the Jaal'darya some time back. it was a mock-dragon that was just a giant lizard with an aura. She was forced to fight and kill this creature during her escape, using only a adamatium dagger from her teacher's desk to fight the large lizard with. Then she used her hard-earned summoning skills to seal it in a gem also stolen from her teacher's private possessions.

After the brief demonstration of her new skills she was brought into the family rooms and cleaned up. She firmly demanded to join the highland raiders now, and her mother went off to make the arrangments to make that happen. Her older sister helped her clean up and get her into formal clothes. Nal'Relka was pressed for more details of why she hadn't been back for so long and what had happened, but she still refused to speak about it. Her sister was in fact a little scared of the person her younger sister had become. Over the years Nal'Relka had been gone Sharyka had not managed to impress anyone and was still stuck training war meat in fighting. She had command over a few squads now, but was fairly stuck as a low ranking soldier. Yet she had always seen her younger sister as someone to be looked after and protected. This strong and confident, not to mention beautiful, person her younger sister had become was a complete stranger.

With both her earlier training as a highland raider and her new skills as a traditional summoner, Nal'Relka was accepted readily into the raider's ranks. She joined a newly formed squad and sent to the surface. Her skills in combat remained average through the years of travelling. Enough to defend herself in a fight, but they remained as a secondary effort to protect herself only long enough to summon up her servant. She dedicated herself to being a raider with the passion that she had given to everything else in her life. Nal'Relka taking some of her fellow soldiers as lovers during her time on the surface. Her romantic relationships intense, but mostly brief. Two of her lovers actually requesting transfers to other highland raider squadrons. Not because of their lack of trust in her as a squad-mate, but because of wanting distance between themselves and her slightly twisted tastes for intimate activities. The years with the summoner Shin'nala having given her a twisted sense of the difference between professional and personal relationships.

Even with those grey marks against her she proved herself in the field over and over again. After ten years she made her way up to second-in-command of the two-dozen person squadron. Over the years of active duty she has managed to add to her collection of servants. At first it was just the giant lizard, but during her second year she managed to get another servant. On the way back to the main Sarghress fortress from the near-surface underground her squad was attacked by a group of wild Streekaider. They managed to fight their way out of the attack, but several of her companions were seriously injured. During that wild retreating combat she managed to finish off one of the wounded driders and seal it's aura into a diamond soulmir as revenge.

During her time as a highland raider she had almost no close confidants. Her lack of friends as she was a child and her treatment while growing up under Shin'nala's care making it hard for her to form deep bonds with anyone. Even her romantic relationships were held a little away from her most private thoughts. The closest she got to friends were her squadmates. It's hard to not have deeper connections with people you would die for and fight alongside on a regular basis. Yet even so she was strangely withdrawn on a personal level. Didn't stop her from being friendly with those around her. Her mask good enough to convince most that her surface feelings were genuine.

The last trip her squad took nearly turned into a disaster, only half of the soldiers under her command surviving. The squad leader having died buying the rest an escape. Since it was decided that it was not her fault, but she was not ready for command, the squadron was disbanded and the members would be assigned to other duties. For the moment she is taking a bit of a vacation while the higher-ups in the clan decide what to do with her. Having free time to do as she wishes is strange for Nal'Relka. All through her life she has been struggling and dedicated to improving herself and doing her duty for her clan. Other then a week here and there between missions she has never had so much time to herself.

Current family status: Her mother is an active highland raider once again as well and they have occasionaly crossed paths through the years. At the moment her mother is off on a mission, so is away from the city for some time. While her sister has made peace with her static position as a war meat trainer. The two siblings get together occasionally, but still have a hard time knowing what to say to each other so such meetings rarely last longer then a few days.


Elendlari Faeyorn:

Halzokh:
A large tiger-sized lizard sealed in a large ruby. Dangerous against an unarmored opponent, but more of a simple distraction against a skilled warrior. Sharp claws and teeth more suited to tearing flesh then getting through armor.
Agressive, but relatively stupid.

Drider Golem:
A large monsterous-looking drider. One of the more feral Streekaider sealed in a clear diamond. Doesn't use weapons, but strong and fast with a nasty bite. Able to pose a danger to even a well armed and skilled opponent. Downside is that she can only maintain this creature for a few minutes before being exhasted.

Eyes: Green.
Hair: Down to her waist, the entire length died a dark red.

Description:
Nal'Relka is approximately 5'6" tall with broad shoulders, and an althetic build. Only rarely seen out of her highland raider armor. The form-fitting armor not enough to conceal the curves of her body. Life as the magical specialist of a raider group leaving her with less muscles then most warriors. Often wears a loose cloak when travelling in the city off-duty. Doesn't wear her helmet much when just wandering around, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail to make sure her lovely face is left unobscured.

Since she practically lives in her armor she has decided to decorate it a bit. Her previous unit's symbols and her rankings done in red runes on her upper arms, while her full name is painted down the side of her right leg. Set in the armor on back of her gauntlets is the gems she uses for her magic. The emerald on her right hand, the diamond on her left. They've been built into her armor so it would take a good amount of force to pry them free.

Xian wrote:Glyph: Astonishing. I regret that I have used words such as "fantastic" and "stellar" to describe submissions before this one, because now I cannot use them to adequately communicate exactly how good this is. This character is a work of art. It ranks among the gods of submissions, and serves as an example- a template- to others.

If Drowtales could support a larger stamp, you would get it.

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Dee'nias Til'naum Val'Beldrobbaen by Kembaru (I RULE!!!)

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 10:19 am

Name: Dee'Nieas Til'naum Val'Beldrobbaen
Gender: Male
Age: 97
Race: Ver'Drowendar
Clan: Beldrobbaen

Weapons: Butterfly knife (With wavy blade... ooh wavy)
Magic: Summoning, both traditional and demonic.
Equipment: Knife, Clothing (noted in play), nine unused soulmir, four occupied soulmir (one drow, one white elf, one drider, one snake like creature, drow and elf auras taken some time at Orthorrbae, Snake and Drider were given to him to be used on assignment from his mother.)
ADA count: 80.

Starting city: Chel'el'sussoloth

---Background---

It was late night when Dee'nieas was born to one of the few remaining houses of the Beldrobbaen clan.

Dee's father was a drow by the name of Kael, older than his lover, he was an accomplished mage, who used his abilities more to cheat and steal, than to actually put them to good use, he'd earned the title of 'The Dice Demon' in Klarbol, he was a conman, swindler, and all around bastard.

Kael had met Ria'fae, a summoner in training outside the Beldrobbaen fortress as she'd been caught up in one of Kael's many cons, however this first meeting wasn't of much consequence, but the two kept on bumping into each other, most often ending in the loss of material goods from one, or physical pain on the other, the exact consequences of the unlikely two getting together were blurry at best, but in the end it didn't matter.

For the first five years of his life, Dee was raised by Ria'fae, who had to give up her education under order from her own mother, her growing resentment for her life went unnoticed by Kael untill she simply left, leaving Kael with the young Dee by his side.

Kael himself had even less patience for the raising of his son than Ria'fae, however, each night he would send Dee enough money for food, via messenger, he'd left his son to the spiders in the Beldrobbaen fortress, Dee was a curious, and happy child despite this, he grew for fifteen years alongside those dwelling in the fortress, becoming the 'little brother' of many of the guards who were left with nothing to do but stare off into an unlit corridor, he'd bring them food, keep them company, he occasionally would meet with the artificial driders, getting a conversation with them as they slipped slowly into madness, he slowly forgot anything about his family and accepted his life, eventually he forgot who sent the ada each night.

When Dee met his thirtieth birthday, he'd grown into a handsome young Drow, fine of feature, well spoken and polite, mind like a steel trap, he'd inherited the bitterness about life in the fortress from the guards who did naught but complain and gamble all day, he'd slowly watched his friends the driders go wild and flee to the all consuming dark of the wilderness, and he was determined to do whatever it takes in order to raise himself from the life that up untill that point he'd been content with.

For the longest week of his life, all Dee thought of was to pull himself from the bottom rung, his background and gender playing against him, he resolved to delve into something that he'd never considered before, he went to the door of Ria'fae and knocked.

After reminding his estranged mother of his identity and the fact that she did indeed have a child, he asked her one simple request; that she send him to Orthorrbae, for the first time that he could remember, and the second time in reality, Ria'fae rejected her son.

For months Dee returned to his mother, each time begging, bringing gifts, offerings, deals, for months he sacrificed everything he had in his life for the miniscule chance that she may accept him and answer his prayers, once the third month was over, and he'd appeared, offering his entire life, and all his abilities, both present and yet to be learned to Ria'fae's service, she accepted, whether it was the constant annoyance, or whether she truly wanted him to be her servant for eternity, he was enrolled to the school, sent to study the very subject that Ria'fae had left Dee to learn: Summoning.

For twelve years Dee studied, he'd managed to raise himself from the bottom rung to one somewhere about the middle, a summoner in the service of nobility was better than 'messenger boy', after all.

In all his years of studying, Dee, devoting all his time and energy to gaining power, prestige, and the nigh-unattainable status of true nobility, despite not being of any particular great magical ability, whether it was some quirk of personality, or just some attribute that he'd somehow developed, Dee earned a certain fame, to himself, he gathered a group of all types, from the strong, yet dull drawn to leadership, others who shared his goals, or those who wanted to bask in his presence, he'd started a group of those who would follow him, listen to him, or even obey him, this group itself was one that would go to all ends in order to achieve what they wanted, whether it be a successful heist from the school supplies, or the vicious beating of a student who had insulted them.

After the long years of schooling, where Dee had tasted the fruits of the higher rungs of the food chain, he returned to the fortress, and into the servitude of his cold and distant mother, for the first hour, maybe, Dee was pleased with what he'd done, rising from peasantry, to servant, it didn't seem so great now, Ria'fae treated him no different than the guards he'd strived so hard not to become, but in the end she treated him just like them.

For six years he obeyed Ria'fae, she neither talked to him, nor treated him like a son, even though it was public knowledge, and while Ria'fae supplied him with money and equipment, Dee went back to those who'd followed him so willingly in Orthorrbae, making deals, organising actions, eliminating competition, while not very high ranking, Dee and his group of supporters and friends started to come at the top of their respective food chains, from the opening of Ghuli's successful armory, to the creation of Sahyoan's carnival in Klarbol, minor businesses became successful, though were careful not to interfere with big business, and attract attention from the clans.

For six years he'd stuck to his oath, but Dee had also inherited the one quality that both his mother and father seemed to possess, a certain lack of patience, once Dee had made enough money, and earned enough clout he went behind his mother's back, she hardly ever paid attention to him anyway, he hired a tutor, while he'd become proficient at summoning in the traditional order, he'd always been eager for power, as well as stature, and it seemed like the forces of the netherworld had seduced him, he studied the demonic arts behind Ria'fae's back, getting tainted in the process.

It also seemed that his business savvy and connections were growing in repute, as he began to get recognition as the mastermind behind many small businesses that weren't simply overshadowed by larger ones, he finally acheived what he'd dreamed of for the long years under his mother's command, becoming greater than her, so that she would no longer have power over him, he could break his vows and do whatever he wanted, but for a long while he disappeared off the scene, still aiding whoever knew where to find him, which was rumoured that he made a deal with the Vloz'ress clan, for six years he studied nether summoning, and after that time, he returned to the nobility scene, still only being spoken of rather than speaking himself, hardly leaving his rooms, and never seen by anyone who was not a close friend, he was biding his time untill he could return personally and reach his full ambition, in all this time, Ria'fae never questioned his location, to her, he was just another minion, if a well connected minion.

As Dee grew in clout behind the scenes, he still planned to cimb higher, earn true greatness, the main obstacle, however, was still Ria'fae, she would hold him to any oath he'd made, and tear down whatever he'd done, in his growing frustration he made a plan, convince her to go out for a drink, and on the way to the city be attacked by 'bandits' and have her killed, no oath could be held by a dead person, drastic, yes, but effective, and he acted on it quickly.

The following evening, his plan backfired, in all his pride, Dee had decided to kill Ria'fae himself, to disguise himself as a commoner and fire the crossbow himself, in doing so, he didn't account for the sheer power of Ria'fae's summoning ability, while her companions were slain around her, Dee had shown up to and began to rant on about how he had been planning this all along, only to be caught off guard by a summoned golem and put down, the other 'bandits' had left so that Dee could have a scene of solitude rather than one of hired thugs laughing at his every sentence, for the death of the one who'd made him nothing but a mere servant.

Once more at Ria'fae's mercy, Dee was imprisoned and submitted to a lengthy, and in the end, fruitless exorcism, they had only succeeded in making him an idiot, while Dee was still the tainted monster that his mother thought him to be, he was at least a tame one, a mere shell of his former self, he was dull, quiet and sickly, while his aura regenerated along with the demon leeching off it, he appeared to have lost very little of his summoning skills, it was just a matter of tricking him into using them, which wasn't that hard.

((Note: for information as to his exact condition, use this link ))

He was now a fool, albeit powerful for a fool, but a fool none the less, he obeyed nearly everything that was asked of him and never questioned the orders of his mother, he lacked his usual instincts and ability to make a coherant plan, he had the mental maturity of a child and was apparently suffering from a permanent headache, he did prove, however to still have his memory intact, with a new habit of blurting out embarassing facts and an inability to keep secrets.

for three weeks he was given assignments just like when he first returned from Orthorrbae, and after botching yet another assignment, he was told to 'get out' by Ria'fae, whom he had come to think of as his saviour at this point, as she easily convinced him that he was doing great evil before the exorcism, he got out of her room, out of the fortress and ended up walking the streets of Chel'el'sussoloth alone, real street meat, an idiot who was repeatedly mugged, beaten up, raped and ridiculed.

It was several weeks later, when he had been put down as dead that he showed up at the place of an old friend, Sahyoan's carnival was now a failing business, slowly going bankrupt, it came to a shock for Dee's old friend to find him still alive, and while everyone he once knew had given up on him as though he had abandoned them, Sahyoan, did however take him in, feed him, cloth him, and give him a job for him to take care of.

Dee was given the job of collecting money from the 'switchback ride', hopping from cart to cart, chatting up both men and women (after he inadvertedly discovered the advantages of doing so) these were perhaps the best days of Dee's life, or at least the most enjoyable, working the rides by day and cruising the town by night, adopting a look that he thought to be unique, he became a local celebrity; star of the dodgems, king of the carousel, he even had his own catchphrase, and with it came the massive swelling of the ego.

However, with his old good planning gone, and the poor organisational skills of Sahyoan, it wasn't long before this time came to an end, foggily acknowledging that he would no longer have anyone to take care of him, he wandered around once more, ultimately aimless and deeply disillusioned, his now deflated ego decided that it was best to return home to the fortress, having forgotten the order to 'get out' at this point.

When he returned, no one recognised him, Ria'fae had forgotten him entirely, and was apparently glad that he was supposedly dead, he gained entry to his old rooms, and dwelled in the surrounding of his former life as well as the ignorance of his present, he took to living his own life for once, still a decent summoner, keeping hold of his good looks and if he could ever work out how to access it, his wealth.

Slowly, news got out that he lived, and as he presently metaphorically navigates his life with a map he drew with his eyes closed, he is unaware that his old enemies may come after him at some point, and that his old friends would never come to his aid.

---Summons---

Olo'sicaaru
Formerly a gladiator at one of the many arenas in Chel'el'sussoloth, Dee had payed his way into the lower levels for a night with one of the more attractive gladiators, and found one of them dying painfully from a drider bite, Dee put Olo out of his misery and gained a summonable fighter in the process.

Ilihl
Once an attractive young elven slave, who at some stage had angered Dee during his time at Orthorrbae, whether it was at the school or elsewhere, however, she is now a summoned golem.

Uiaz
One of the two soulmir that Ria'fae gave to Dee when he first returned from Orthorrbae, Uiaz is a six foot long Kusai creature that Ria'fu had gotten from her mother before her, Dee never appreciating the gesture of recieving it, he doesn't like to use Uiaz,

Unxon
A similar story to Uiaz, except with a Streekaider.

---Appearance---
Neither particularly tall or short, Dee is an apparently young man of a seeming 46(23) years, bearing shoulder length, ebony black hair that partially hangs down in front of his face, the rest tied in a ponytail, he carries a somewhat 'noble' look about him, as if he could look regal if the desire struck him, which, however, is not often, his present manner is that of a dreamer, or a poet, the sort of romanticised version of a handsome young man, the gentle crimson glow of the taint shines from his eyes that stare so frequently into space.

Xian wrote:kembaru: Aside from a few of the people you know having bad cases of alzheimers, this is very good. How many times can one person forget another? Never the less, you deserve this:

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Last edited by kembaru on Mon Jun 19, 2006 11:09 am, edited 1 time in total.
kembaru
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Adrian Fer'bekt by Adrian

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 10:24 am

Name: Adrian Fer'bekt

Race: Drowolath

Age: round about 55

Equipment: Adrian carries a sword, plain but servicable, a mercenary's weapon. He also carries a leather pouch of throwing knives. He travels light, but might occasionally carry a scroll for reading up on something of interest to him, a healing salve, and/or a flask of something to drink.

Magic: fire sorcery, to a small degree

Beginning city: Chel'el'sussoloth

Clan: Val'Sarghress

Background:

Adrian was born to common family in Chel'el'sussoloth. His father, Tirk'en, was a rough, laughing drow with a liking for talk and mushroom beer and a reputation for getting himself into arguments; his mother, Stirethe, who came from a slightly more respectable, if poor, family, met Tirk'en at a tavern when the two of them fell to arguing for half the night over the best method of brewing beer. The seemingly unlikely pair ended up getting on very well indeed, and struck up their own business selling fairly good brews in the marketplace.

A witty and rambunctious young one, Adrian enjoyed his childhood, meagre though it was -- mainly he enjoyed racing through the marketplace with his band of friends (including his young sister Li'seth), scuffling and fighting or wreaking minor and usually good-natured havoc among the bustle of customers who frequented merchants' stalls.

One morning in front of Adrian's parents' stall, the group of mischief-makers set eyes upon a well-dressed drow female with a few accompanying guards/companions: a Vel'Sharen noble, with what the children were sure were the most spectacular clothes that existed. Gold and jeweled tassels hung from her belt beside the short sword sheathed there. Someone -- Adrian could never remember who -- suggested to the rest of the group that certainly the bravest of them would sneak up to the noble and cut a tassel from the belt, adding a jibe about how some of the young ones would never dare.

"Oh no? Just you watch me!" flashed back Adrian's sister, who was in fact the youngest of the group. Before Adrian or any of the others could caution her, she flounced around the corner of the market stall. Discreetly pulling the small knife that she carried from her dress, she walked by the noble as if casually passing. To the rest of the group, now breathless and a little bit frightened, it seemed to be working perfectly; Li'seth was as cool as a cat and no one was watching her. As she passed, she sliced one of the tassels from the belt and turned back toward her friends with a silent but triumphant grin, clutching her prize in her hand. Adrian opened his mouth to welcome her back around the corner of the stall when, without warning, the noble turned soundlessly and thrust her short sword into Li'seth's chest. The child gasped, and fell: the immediate bystanders made exclamations of surprise, the group of children scattered in panic, knocking over baskets of fruit, people, and anything else in their way.

Adrian, with only the half-realization that his sister had just been murdered in his head, ran wildly toward the scene. His mother, however, was there before him. Stirethe had seen everything from the brew stall, and flew at the noble with the hotheadedness characteristic of the family, Weaponless, Stirethe was no match for the noble and guards; Adrian, coming to his senses, snatched up a torch mounted on the front of the stall and threw both himself and the flaming torch on the noble. The only thing that saved his life was in fact the fire, for though he'd never known it, he had some natural skill with the element; it burst into a much larger flame in the noble's face just as she pulled her sword from the dead girl's body and was bringing it down on Adrian. Staggering back from the now unconscious noble, he ran off into the streets and collapsed in an alley soon after.

When Adrian awoke, it was to a starkly different world. His mother and sister were both dead, and the stall where his parents' had sold their wares had been destroyed along with all its goods. For the next few years, his father, whose laughter disappeared without his Stirethe's witty arguments and banter, raised him alone, scraping the beer business together again. People said, though, that it was never as good as it had once been.

These events left Adrian much more sombre than he had previously been. He retains a keen wit and an inclination to humor, but these are balanced by a bitterness toward the Vel'Sharen clan and the heedless arrogance of the nobility in general. He forges few bonds, and finds it very easy to kill without hesitation or remorse, yet because of the helplessness he felt at his sister's death, which has stayed with him these forty years, he has a high inclination for protectiveness and is quick to defend those few he does care for. Like his father, he has a strong liking for mushroom beer, arguments, and attractive drow. Over the years he has become less bitter and also a little less feeling; he lives very much for himself and his main goal is to achieve some recognition, though he knows not from whom or for what. Without admitting it, he searches for a cause, for meaning to which to dedicate himself. It's unlikely that he would look to the noble clans he dislikes, but there is little else...

Since he hadn't much taste for merchantry, he left home at a young age to discover adventure, danger, anything new. The Val'Sarghress clan accepted him as a mercenary fighter, where he trained in swordplay and has become quite proficient. One skill which his mother had taught him at a very young age (and at which his sister had also excelled) and which he still possesses is knife-throwing; he can fix an opponent with a blade with agility and speed. He has never been particularly good at his fire sorcery, which he usually uses for more practical things than battle, but very occasionally it comes in handy in fighting. His loyalty to the Sarghress is real but casual, and when he's not working for the clan, he's more than willing to accept mercenary jobs from other employers. A few more ada for a few more drinks, a few more nights of pleasure. His motto might well be that we live but day to day.

Description:
Though slightly larger than most males, Adrian is otherwise nothing out of the ordinary. He's middling handsome, though not vain, and rouguish looking. He wears dark colors, usually a plain tunic, trousers and cloak. His hair is undyed, and his one distinguishing possession is a gold chain he wears about his neck. He sports a scar from his chest to his hip where the Vel'Sharen noble's blade just missed cuting him open, and then a few minor scars from his skirmishes as a mercenary.

Xian wrote:Adrian: Good.

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kembaru
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Paqu'ria Ju'na Vel'Sharen by Ariflae

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 10:28 am

Name: Paqu'ria Ju'na Vel'Sharen
Species: Ver'Drowendar.
Gender: Female
Age: 70

Weapons: none.
Equipment: Clothing, sealing jewels, and the writ of orders, so Ulnan won't kill her.
Ada: 23

Background:
Paqu was born into the Sullissen'rune clan, his mother being a high born proffessional pleasurer, by the name of Olisa, a woman of such skill at her craft that rumours were flying that the Illharess herself had requested her presence (though were in the end, only rumours) of course skill doesn't neccessarily incur sensibility when drunk, which caused the woman to fall pregnant in the first place.

Paqu was raised by her mother for as long as she could remember, their home in the fortress always seemed to have visitors, and there were always scandalous tales to be told when Paqu was identified outside of her own home by one of the more frequent visitors, the girl knew perfectly well what was happening there, and had on many occasions been forced to watch, or participate in the home's 'celebrations'

The first thirty years of her life was like this, so nearly half of her childhood was spent aiding Olisa, seeking out possible targets, and often taking on the odd client herself, the other half was spent with friends, walking around the city, taunting those who couldn't keep up with the young empath's ability to seemingly tell anyone what they were thinking or feeling at the time, taking what wasn't theirs, throwing rocks at people they didn't like, the typical innocent brat things, her two best friends at the time were Qiba, a Sarghress male whom she met when his mother came to visit Olisa, and Xinitha, a Sullissen'rune girl who was more or less the little sister of the group.

The three were inseperable for much of their young lives, they lived and breathed for each other, if asked, they could each tell a thousand stories of each other, of Qida's begginings as a lesser noble brat, to a formidable young man, Xini's tranformation from the shy little thing that they'd both cared for as a child, to a loudmouthed and brash Captain in the Sullissen'rune armed forces

As she aged though, Paqu lost much of the factor that made her desirable to the more sickly perverted denizens of the underworld, and Olisa saw it fit to have her daughter continue the business on through the family, which required a lot more training than practical experience to perfect, soon Olisa was springing for tuition with the true professionals of the art, as well as for the empathic ability that Paqu had inherited, that proved useful to anyone in their proffession.

No longer spending as much time actually earning money, as much as spending it to perfect this flick of the tongue, or how to stop the compounded emotions of the denizens of that tavern, her time with Xini and Qida grew scarcer, spending more time absorbed in their own studies, their time together was spent more often in Paqu's bed helping her training, than walking around the markets like they did as children.

A decade later, Paqu was able to perform as well as the best in the pleasure business, she was able to prevent the headaches, able to differ falsehoods from truths, to detect those nearby, and importantly, she had developed the wit to put these abilities to good use, soon after her training was completed, it was only a matter of months before she found herself in bed with someone who's actions would dictate the next few years of her life, which was a strangely common occurance for her when she looked back on her past.

This particular person was an agent of the Sullissen'rune clan, who passed comment that he really should have been able to have resisted doing what they had just done, that it was hard to convince a spy to come to bed, in case they did something that would make them blow their cover.

Paqu was the first to admit that had she been from another clan, that would have been a big mistake, but she became intrigued by this man's idea, she was more or less just a slab of meat with no real use in her current life, so she broke one of he golden rules of the profession, she went with a client the next day, walking in, through the back door of a Sullissen'rune tavern and meeting with a short and scarred clan agent named Helo'an.

Even the first job was hard, convincing a member of the Vloz'ress clan to give up information was difficult, one of the Nether-summoners no less, and after a long time talking, the Vloz'ress woman was still as tight lipped as when they first met, Paqu didn't want to do it, but she eventually had to pull out her charms, the Nether summoner eventually leaving to get changed out of her sealing armor, Paqu set to work sneaking about her office, eventually finding the desired documents, and slipping them into her bag.

Returning after an extraordinarily long night of horrific things that would have traumatised anyone with less experience in that line of work, Paqu returned to the fortress with a limp and several wounds that would leave scars that she'd carry untill death, needless to say, she was furious when all she got was a meagre 'thank you' and another assignment to be done 'for the good of the clan'.

Waking up the next day next to Xini, who at this point was extraordinarily loyal to the clan, Paqu had decided to go on with one more job, and if there was no payment, then she'd go back to what she was best at.

The next job was even more difficult, which made Paqu wonder what demon had possessed her to do it: She had to infiltrate the Sharen fortress, getting in there as a Sullissen'rune without invitation meant certain death no matter what, and rather than getting herself enslaved and later escaping like anyone else would have done, she went through a long process of staging an elaborate falling out with her own family and friends, in which she would admit that she was a spy in front of the right ears

She did this in the Black Dragon Tavern, Olisa, Qiba and Xini were in on this as well, what started as a small argument quickly and deliberately escalated to shattering bottles and smashing chairs, Paqu getting cut up a little, and Qiba being knocked out by a chair, Paqu stormed out into the streets alone, to be intercepted by two Sharen nobles who had been listening intently as they play-acted her being booted from the clan, they offered her, refuge, living space, and servants in exchange for inside information and her services.

From the first hour of the infiltration, Paqu regretted it, one of the first acts to be done was to grill her for information that she had made up, waking the next day in the dreary Sharen fortress, she found a heavily armored male waiting for her, who lead her by the arm to a chamber where she was rather forcefully and unduly heavily tainted, then locked back in the room they'd given her for what seemed like months, though was in fact just a few days.

It took months to gather the desired information, in this time, the constant grating of the demon on her soul was driving her mad, and the relief that flooded her when she realised that her work was done made everything better, the day she would return, her breakfast tasted better than any meal she had ever tasted, even the air smelled sweeter on the long walk from fortress to fortress, through the city, she would see Xini and Qiba again!

Upon her return to the fortress, however, that feeling began to die, the guard at the gate, who she even recognised and called by name refused to admit her entrance untill they contacted her family, which meant a two hour wait, whilst her mother finished her client off for the day, and finally met with the messenger, when she finally located the spymaster, the information she provided was dismissed as false, and she was forced back into the streets of the fortress, meeting with Xini went slightly better, though the empathic woman woman was disgusted with the demon within her, and eventually asked her to leave because she couldn't stand Paqu's presence.

Paqu was left cursing herself, had she thought of telling the clan that it was an act?

No, She hadn't and they'd dismissed her as an abandoner, Olisa refused to meet her now tainted daughter, meeting with Qiba didn't go as well either, her red eyes had convinced the Sarghress man that his oldest friend had deserted him and joined his enemy, their encounter ended with Qiba demanding Paqu leave, as she lay on the ground, her lip bleeding where he'd hit her.

She hadn't even had the foresight to think of the fact that it was required of all Sharen that they become tainted, another big mistake.Left with the choice of Vel'Sharen, or the street, Paqu grudgingly chose the Sharen, they gave her work as a spy, tough the work they gave her was near impossible to achieve, and she failed on her first three attempts that had her downgraded to the army.

She served in the Sharen armies for a few months, the worst soldier of her unit, despite the ability to tell them when someone was waiting in ambush, her tendancy to drop the sword at the first sign of hostility gave her a bad reputation, and she was demoted, once more to the proffession her mother had her trained in, she was nothing but the Sharen army's whore, pleasing the tired officers after their hard work, each night, returning to her own room, rather than staying with who she had just slept with and crying herself to sleep on the hard bed, she'd aimed high, only to find herself missing her target and landing in the mud.

After six years, Paqu's luck changed once more, she had been picked as a favourite of a certain Sharen, and was saved for that woman, and that woman alone, Paqu felt nothing, but the Sharen saw her as a lover, more than a prostitute, which gave Paqu a fleeting sense of hope, as well as the feeling that she wasn't being raped every night.

This Sharen woman was named Ohli'sijitha, or just Ohli, while Paqu was indeed her favourite, she recognised her utter ineptitude for battle, as well as her disdain for her current life, and tried her best to organise something to elevate her position to somethimg higher than meat for the soldiers, eventually Ohli convinced one commander to give Paqu a post, her ability to tell the difference between truth and a lie was what saved her.

The Clan had been having trouble with someone who was more or less an accident waiting to happen, a self dubbed inquisitor who had been killing indiscriminately, and had just returned from a suicide mission that they had sent him on, unluckily living, for this, Paqu repaid Ohli in the ways she by now had learned that she enjoyed, ecstatic that she had been elevated from the lifestyle she'd strived for so long to leave behind, Paqu did the heartless, though honest thing, and rejected Ohli as her lover, leaving to fulfill her new duties as an 'inquisitorial supervisor', in which she'd babysit the one they'd been having trouble with, while it would be dangerous with the information she found on the psychopath, she began to grow worried that the madman wouldn't turn on her.

Paqu was relieved when he was given a formal order, written, so that the Sharen he had to babysit couldn't argue with anything he said without being named a traitor, like those he killed, the way this man worked, he would go to all ends in order to kill a traitor, so as long as Paqu had that order, she was safe.

As a parting gift, Paqu recieved a large parcel of silver and ruby jewellery from Ohli, this gift was partially due to Paqu's empathy, and her wits, she had no great love for the Sharen, and thus had no qualms with conning them out of their goods, the gift was made custom to function similar to the sealing armor, in order to stop Paqu's possession in its tracks, while not as effective, it was good enough to make her able to think straight.

With a parting kiss to Ohli, Paqu grabbed her imperial orders and set out in order to find the madman who called himself 'Ulnan the Questioner'.

Description:
Eyes: Red
Hair: Dark blue, slightly curly and worn loose and cut to shoulder length.
General description: Paqu is a tall woman who was blessed with good looks, while not particularly well endowed around the chest area, she possesses a well curved and lithe figure, generally wearing dark colors, a taste she developed in her time with the Sharen, she tends to wear more practical clothing these days, rather than her fashionable clothing of the past, she prefers to wear simple black pants and leather shoes, with a white, collared shirt that is held closed at the front by silver clasps (think business shirt) beneath a black coat that reaches her knees which can be worn open, or closed with similar silver clasps to her shirt, she leaves her neck uncovered.

Paqu has many piercings about her person, three in her left ear, two in her right, her navel and left eyebrow, right nostril, as well as a few others that she is less inclined to show others publicly, she has three scars in an 'x' shape on her stomach, hip and thigh from her encounter with a Nethersummoner, and has a tattoo of a red faery on that back of her neck that is usually covered by her hair.

Xian wrote:Ariflae: I'm almost hesitant to give this the gigantic stamp of approval, because if there are any feminists within 100 meters of a computer, they will immediately assume that it's because almost your entire background focuses on sleeping with people.

But it's a long background, and a very well-written one, with all the hallmarks of an A+ submission. You've earned this, though it may be the death of me.

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PS. PMing me won't make me get to your charater faster. In fact, it usually slows me down.
kembaru
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Oiloss’lin Xyrrai’zestu Vel’Sharen by Thalar

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 10:33 am

Name: Oiloss’lin Xyrrai’zestu Vel’Sharen

Race: Ver’drowendar

Age: 287

Equipment:
A full set of personalized sealing armor, long scimitar in a plain scabbard, plain but sturdy shield with a shoulder strap so she can carry it on her back when it’s not in use, a small companion sword (more like a long dagger, almost tanto-style).
A belt-pouch with two rolls of bandage-cloth in case she sustains injury, a blood-clotting salve to stop bleeding, 150 ada, a notebook and two pens.
One hooded cloak, worn when she is outside the fortress.

Magic: Summoning (demonic)

Beginning city: Chel’el’sussoloth

Clan: Vel’Sharen, Xyrrai’zestu subhouse.
The subhouse is one of a few subhouses from the clan’s earliest time in Chel which still exist today, but its power and influence has waned, and Xyrrai’zestu has not been considered a major power within the clan for centuries.
The subhouse’s insignia is a stylized firebird, often displayed with wings curved around the nine moons of the Sharen.

Background:

Oiloss’lin was born as the second daughter of Tal’xuess, the Ilhar of Xyrrai’zestu, a subhouse of the (then) Val’Sharen. Tal’xuess, was rich, graceful and ambitious, and determined to increase her subhouse’s influence. The fact that Xyrrai’zestu was one of the smallest subhouses at the time, was merely an obstacle to overcome.

Normally, the second daughter of a noble would be raised by the noble’s first daughter, but as a part of her plans for the subhouse, Tal’xuess was determined to bear many children, and often. She expected the same of the other females of the subhouse. At the first mention of her plans, there were scandalous outcries and several challenges were made, but as Tal’xuess kept talking they all eventually listened. Perhaps it was the magnitude of her plan; the long-term implications were baffling. Her intention was to raise an army, the old fashioned way.
The end result was that Telusonne, Oiloss’lin’s elder sister, was elder by a mere four years.

It would be unkind to say that none of the children were born out of love, but for the most part every child concieved in the subhouse was a product of strict breeding. Oiloss’lin was no exception. Her father was a well-off faern trained in the high arts. Telusonne’s, a renowned empath. Neither of the girls ever knew their fathers.

Of course, with Sharen nobility, comes a personal servant, bodyguard and a deadly enemy or lifelong friend; the adopted protector twin. Tal’xuess had been scouting for prospective twin candidates, and had decided on the newborn girl of a wealthy merchant who had recently ingratiated herself to Xyrrai’zestu. The merchant, overwhelmed by the offer and jubilant at her girl becoming a noble, did not protest. The family didn’t have any special traits but beggars can’t be choosers, Tal’xuess reasoned, as she carried the babe home. The protector twin was given the name Anai’los.

Oiloss’lin and Anai’los grew up together with a great number of other children, playing in the empty and abandoned parts of the Xyrrai’zestu house, a fortresslike building dwarfed and obsqured from outside view by the massive Sharen main tower. Tal’xuess educated her first two daughers, and their twins, on her own, an impressive feat. They were indoctrinated with a sense of honor and loyalty; to the Val’Sharen, to Xyrrai’zestu, and to Tal’xuess herself. Oiloss’lin and her twin were also taught to be loyal to the first Heir, Telusonne, but no such considerations counted for her protector twin, Pyrilin. It was a small, but constant reminder of Pyrilin’s status compared to Telusonne.

Oiloss’lin took her mother’s teachings to heart, and would often act as backup for Telusonne if she got into an argument with other kids. This she did because she had asked her mother what loyalty really was, and her mother had answered â€
kembaru
Walking Contradiction
 
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Arion'selthar Val'Sarghress by Ssin'urn

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 10:37 am

Name:
Arion'selthar Val'Sarghress
(As I already told you in the PM, I won't use him 'til Sarissa is out of the way)


Race:
Drowolath


Age:
436


Description:
For a male Drowolath, Arion stands rather tall, around 6 feet. His body is muscular and well-trained, while his face is rather soft. From his looks, you would say he is in his mid-twenties. He has purple eyes, and his shoulder-length plain white hair is most often tied back in a low ponytail. He wears below mentioned outfit most of times. He has two scars, one on his belly, centered more to the left, about 2cm long, and a longer one ranging from his back, over his right hip, ending shortly before the belly.


Weapon/Armor kept on person/worn:
-A slightly curved, long sword(Katana-like, although the curve is really flat), measuring 1,60 meters complete, where the blade is about 1,40 meters and the handle rather long, about 0,15-0,20 meters. The blade, however, is only a bit over one inch wide. It seems to be made out of repeatedly folded iron, a true masterpiece, and designed for either one- or two-handed use, if the person is strong enough to wield it with one hand. The handle itself is slightly curved, too, made out of ivory, polished, decorated with gold and silver symbols, worked directly into the ivory. A single, blood red gem is set into the pommel, just where blade and handle meet. However, the gem does not seem to have any magical properties, while it is indeed capable of storing magic. It is stored in a rather simple scabbard of lizards leather, strapped to the back.

-A rather short sword, the blade measuring 50cm in length, and the handle about 10cm, for a total of around 60cm. The blade is about two inch wide, made out of Adamantium, and it is forged from one piece, rather than attaching the handle to the blade. However, the handle is covered with surface leather, as it would be a pain to wield a blade on a metal handle. The leather is covered with symbols in gold and silver. They seem to be the same symbols than those adorning the handle of Arion's other sword, just smaller, and stitched with gold and silver yarn, rather than worked into the handle with metal. Also kept in a rather simple scabbard of lizards leather, strapped to the belt, this time.

-A harness, complete with shoulder pads and bracers. The top part, including the shoulder pads and covering his neck and chest is made out of studded lizards leather, worn over a shirt made out of two layers spidersilk, with one layer chainmail worked in between. The bracers are just made of one layer of spider silk to allow maximum movabillity of the arms. On both shoulders is the symbol of the Val'Sarghress, however, not the new one, the strange black blade, but the red blade with a tarantula clawing to it, on white ground. The parts of the harness that are not made out of leather are red with the occasional black line, while the lizards leather is of a deep black with iron rivets, with only two white, round spots on both shoulders where the Val'Sarghress clan symbol is set.

-A pair of trousers fitting to the harness, made out of one layer of spider silk, again, red with the occasional black line or stripe.

-A pair of gloves, made out of hardened leather, yet they do not cover the fingers. Instead, they each have an iron plait set upon the back, to protect a hand clutching a sword as good as possible from any blows. The iron plait on the right glove again has the old Val'Sarghress clan symbol worked into it with acid and painted red.

-A pair of black boots, made of hardened leather with a thin layer of iron worked into. They are heavier than normal boots, yet as light as possible while opting for better defence of the feet.

-A cape braided with gold on the borders. It has a hood, and the only decoration besides the braided gold on the borders, is again the old symbol of the Val'Sarghress, the red tarantula clawing upon a red blade. It is taking up nearly all the back of the cape.

Equipment kept on person:

-A pouch on his belt, containing 100 Ada
(Yes, he does not carry around anything else than his weapons and his Ada.)

Stored in his room in the Val'Sarghress fortress:

-A complete suit of armor of the Val'Sarghress Highland Raiders. It has the typical brownish color, a visor that can shut golemised or manually, blade's on the right forearm than can be drawn out manually or golemised, a round shield attached to the left forearm, and is made of iron, and leather on the spots that are vital for moving. It is, as every Highland Raider Armor, designed to seal of the entire body if the need arises, and is form fitting to be worn a long time. It seems a bit dusty, yet not dirty, as if it was cleaned sometimes, but not worn in quite some time.

-A light blade, fitting to the armor, long yet light and fine. It seems to be made of iron. Like the armor, it seems to be taken good care of, yet was not used in quite some time.

-300 more Ada.

-Paper, Ink and feathers, everything needed for writing.

-a few bandages, although nothing expect for some strong alcohol that could be used for treating/preventing infection.

-A few gems usable for storing magic.


Magic:
High Arts, although only mastered Earth so far, and got a bit into Air.

Beginning City:
Chel'el'sussoloth


Clan:
Val'Sarghress, former commoner, son of merchants.


Profession:
He was educated as a Faern, but most assume he is a Sarghtlin. Detailed explanation in Background.


Background:
Arion'selthar Val'Sarghress was born roughly 436 years ago. But he was not born with that name, especially since the Sarghress were not yet a clan in that moment of time. He was born as Arion Therone, son of a non-noble, but quite wealthy merchant. His mother was a commoner, while he never knew who his father was. But, with his mother being a commoner, his education was quite different from those most nobles receive.

While his mother had hopped for a daughter, she was satisfied with Arion. She raised him, sometimes like a caring mother, sometimes strict. She taught him that strength was what mattered, not from what bloodline you are born. She taught him that he should never judge someone for their stand in society, but always for their strength, in body as well as in mind, as you need to combine both to be really strong.

At first, his mother intended to educate him as a merchant, so he could continue her business in time to come. But soon, she discovered that little Arion had a far to fiery spirit to waste his life as merchant. He even seemed to have quite some potential for magic, managing to create a small light in his hand as he was roughly 6 or 7 years old. Quite a feat for a young male commoner.

So, she continued to raise him with all the love, strength and guidance, and faith in Sharess he would need for the path she decided for him. As he reached the age of ten, his mother paid quite a sum of money, only to let him study at Orthobbae and become a Faern. Of course, he was more than just exited about that. He had never interacted more than a bit of small talk with other children, and now he would visit classes with dozens of them.

Also, he was exited to learn to harness and control Mana. He was aware what it had cost his mother to give him this opportunity, just another proof that she wished him the best a mother could wish, even if he was a male. He did not intend to let his mother down on that. At first, he only roughly interacted with other children, instead putting as much of his energy possible into learning.

And soon, his efforts began to show. While most other children in his class were nobles, after a short while, he was top of class in just about every subject he took. He decided to concentrate most on learning earth magic, and a bit on air, as those two elements were those you could most commonly find.

Only a few other children in his class managed as much so early in their training as Faern. But, of course, everything soon proved to have a downside. While he was proud with himself for his progress, this only added fuel to fire for the other children. Most shunned him already because he was a commoner, that was only allowed to study here because his mother was quite wealthy and had paid quite a sum, but that he beat them to nearly everything was the final straw for most.

At first, they only ignored him, but that did not bother him then. He had made no effort so far to even talk to someone except the teachers. Instead, he still put about as much effort into learning as possible, amazing quite a few of his teachers in the progress. He seemed to absorb everything they told and taught him, yet demand for more.

On one occasion, when they had the two days off from school, he went to his mother, and he asked her if he could receive training in swordsmanship, too. She pondered over this for a while, but he was her only child, and, though she tried, he seemed to be the last for a long time. And, he seemed promising. So she finally agreed to hire a tutor to train him during those two days of every month he had no school.

He put much effort into it, almost as much as he put into studying. Even when he was at Orthobbae, he always used the free time he did not put into studying to become more familiar with sword fighting, but he realized it would take quite some time to accomplish such a feat. Especially since he could not effectively train during his time at Orthobbae. But he used every opportunity he had.

Sadly, this had a side effect. A bad one. While he was determined to become a strong warrior, proficient with both magic and sword, he used up every free minute he had either to study or to train with a sword under the mentor his mother hired. That, effectively meant, he would get lonelier than ever, now that he robbed himself of the last two days per month to spend with his mother.

Sure, he had not played with other kids when he was younger, but at least, he always had his mother to rely on, to speak with, to share sorrows. He began to regret that he was a commoner, and that the other children shunned him. If only he had known then that being shunned could not be the worst. While he continued to be lonely, yet favoured by most teachers, nearly always top of the class, some of the other children began to plot something to pay him back for being a commoner and daring to show them off.

He should discover it soon, however. One day, after a particularly boring day of lessons, four of the other children ambushed him in an empty corridor. He was, even at that time, quite big for a male, but they were four, he was alone, and he was unarmed. First, they only mocked him. However, he came up with the smarter replies. Sadly, that only angered the other kids further. They ganged up on him.

At first, it seemed as if he could manage to fight them off, but soon he began to stumble, finally being restrained by two, while the other two proceeded to beat him up. He was just about to loose consciousness, tasting the blood in his mouth and upon his lips, his vision blurry, as a voice practically thundered through the corridor. "Stop it! Away from him, immediately!" the boys looked up, frightened and surprised, and quickly scattered off.

For there, at the end of the corridor, stood a boy, obviously quite a bit older, something between 20 and 30 years old, possibly. Of course, Arion could not see him. He just lay there, in his own blood, his vision blurred, pain coursing through his body, just before he fell into the sweet embrace of nothingness, losing his consciousness.

The other boy walked over to him, checking him over frankly, before he picked him up and carried Arion away, through quite a number of corridors, until they reached the quarters the other boy shared with another student. The first thing, though, that Arion noticed when he woke up again, was serious headache. Slowly, he opened his eyes, his vision still blurry. He blinked once. No…still blurry. He blinked twice.

Yeah…slowly, everything took clearer shapes. What had happened? Ahh…yes, those boys. He slowly remembered…and sat up in an instant, resulting in his head only getting more dizzy. Bringing one of his hands up to his face, he slowly pressed the palm against his forehead. Just then, he could hear a rather silent snicker, just before he heard a voice. He had heard it before…yeah, in that corridor.

"So, awake again, sleepy-head? We were already thinking you would not wake up anymore, huh?" Lowering his hand, and blinking again, he slowly turned to where that voice came from. He could see a boy, easily twice his age, if not more, who had obviously spoken, standing before another bed, while another boy, probably the one who had snickered, sat cross-legged upon that bed.

"Where am I?" was the only thing Arion responded, slowly rubbing his head. He still had that taste of blood upon his tongue. "Well, obviously, you're in our room. At least that's what I think…right, Arathion?" the boy sitting on the bed replied. The boy standing, who was obviously called Arathion, nodded slowly. "Konar is right. Oh, by the way, we are Arathion and Konar Val'Sharen. You are a commoner, but nevertheless, it would be nice to know your name."

Arion's eyebrows rose suspiciously. Why should a Sharen help him? He voiced his doubts without thinking that he might insult them. However, they both only dissolved into fits of laughter, which only served to further agitate Arion. "What's so funny about that?" he called out, annoyed. However, they only laughed a bit more, before turning serious again.

"You know, not every noble is bad. That would be like saying every commoner is worthless and untalented. You surely don't agree, do you?" Arathion spoke out, although it was obvious he was still amused. "We have heard about you, you know. The teachers are quite amazed. You may not be the best student ever, but for a commoner, you are quite good." Again, it was Arathion who spoke.

The talk went on for hours, Arion finally beginning to trust them. He even told them his name. They offered being friends, watching out for him until he was capable to do it himself. As he asked what they wanted in return, the only reply he got was “You will see when the time is ripe.â€
kembaru
Walking Contradiction
 
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Kalandrin Fre'ana Val'Beldrobbaen by Kalandrin

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 10:41 am

"]Name: Kalandrin Fre'ana Val'Beldrobbaen
Race: Ne'kalsaider
Age: 45
Sex: Female
Equipment: On person: Twin yatagans; one flask with water; reinforced spidersilk clothing; pendant with an expensive gem; pouch with 15 ada. In the fortress: weaving equipment and sets of unworked, ready-to-be-used spidersilk; simple and reinforced spidersilk clothes; minor medical equipment (bandages, strong alcohol for preventing infection and treating wounds); a few gems used to decorate clothing; 300 ada.
Magic: Lights, dispelling, minor illusions
Beginning City: Chel'el'sussoloth
Clan: Val'Beldrobbaen
Background:
Summary
Born in the Drider Hive some four-and-a-half decades ago, Kalandrin Fre'ana Val'Beldrobbaen grew with a series of unfortunate events that deeply affected her history, personality, as well as psychology. Not of the noble caste, but rather a mere commoner who struggled for survival from an early age, Kalandrin remains a rebellious character with great rage within her, largely disregarding life to several levels.

Detailed background
Kalandrin Fre'ana was born as a commoner in the Drider Hive, with a perfectly fine and by all means normal past for the two first decades of her life. She spent much time with her family and friends, being taught the craft of weaving spidersilk to do her living once she grew up, as well as trying to master unarmed combat for her self defence, relying on her natural weapons and insticts.


Among the persons that always have been inspiring her was her older sister, G'eldyl Fre'ana, who had travelled around the underworld, always returning with gifts and stories to tell. The most skilled fighter of the family, as well as the person who was more keen on using magic, G'eldyl played an important role on forging Kalandrin's personality even up to present day.

Kalandrin's childhood has undoubtedly been the best era of her life. The childhood dreams of travelling and getting to know the underworld, possibly the world above as well, and growing to live happily in a serene manner; as the child grew, the dreams changed and became more mature, though not at all got replaced by different ones. Thus, at her nineteen years of age, when Kalandrin was asked to get to Chel'el'sussoloth for some business under the escort of her older sister G'eldyl, she was too excited to deny the offer.

Was it the over-excitement, or was it the hurry? Kalandrin cannot answer with certainty even today. What had happened is that she was ahead, not listening to her sister's advise to stay close and be careful. And of all the dangers of the world she lived at, she faced one of the most terrible ones possible: a drow slaver party. As a child, Kalandrin was unable to put up much resistance, while due to the unsafe distance she had from her sister at the time of the event, she never even learned wether G'eldyl found out what exactly had happened. As such, at her nineteen years of age, Kalandrin Fre'ana was thrown into the life of a slave.

The whip of Kalandrin's newly acquired masters was not enough to fully subject the drider's fiery spirit. Largely disappointed by her own self for falling into this fate, failing her family and their honour, as well as putting troubles upon her sister's shoulders, the youngling eventually chose the way of limited submission, as a punishment to herself for the weakling she proved to have been.

Not even a week later, Kalandrin's personality was already deeply affected by the things she had encountered. Treated as little more than a smart animal by the slavers, she was eventually sold to a merchant of Chel'el'sussoloth, openly affiliated with the Nindraa'chal clan. This tainted merchantwoman, while appearing to be nice in the beginning, made Kalandrin's life even worse than what it had become already.

Given a new name, Char'breena, the drider was taken by the merchant in her 'headquarters' in Klar'bol, where she was chained and given her first tasks - eventually including cleaning, transferring large and heavy goods, and whatever her mistress desired. Not completely obedient, Char'breena was regularly whipped or otherwise beaten, either for disobedience, delays, or mistakes she made; sometimes for even what she was. Among the two other slaves the merchant owned - a light elf and a drow - not even them would accept her inconventional nature.

For an entire decade, Char'breena was psychologically and physically mistreated, almost getting tainted twice but luckily managing to survive her mistress' whim. Her body was full of whipstrike scars; herself had grown utterly reclusive and unsocial, managing to concentrate some tools for her weaving skills (which her mistress exploited). her spirit, though, had grown to become more rebellious than ever.

It all ended suddenly, in the sudden outburst of a war in the heart of the city. The Nindraa'chal clan had attacked the Val'Sharen, and in the rapid war that broke out, Char'breena (Kalandrin) saw a chance for her freedom. Perhaps the Sharen would help her gain her freedom if she helped them? She knew that her owner was openly supporting the Nindraa'chal, perhaps the one and only chance for freedom...

...which, apparently, never came. A team of Sharen warriors took her mistress down before Char'breena could get a chance of acting, leaving her alone with the attacking party. Wether the war was subsiding or not, she was forced into a new life, eventually under a new master: the Val'Sharen clan, later Vel'Sharen.

What could an enslaved drider be useful for, even if just twenty-nine years old? Some could claim, "nothing" and thus, could easily get rid of the slave by killing her, either directly or via an arena fight, with the latter also bringing gain in ada to their pockets. For Char'breena, it was the second; considered unsuitable for Sharen service and a burden to be kept alive with nothing being done, she was sent to the Black Dragon's arenas.

It was a struggle of survival, life and death for the two gladiators; the inexperienced drider youngling, and the more experienced, seven-foot-tall orc before her. Under a new alias, Phyr'shalee, the young drider was expected to survive with nothing more than her clothes, a short sword, and her natural weapons. Struggling for survival and againbst all odds, Phyr'shalee was victorious, largely thanks to the poison overdose she had given to the orc through her painful bites.

For the battles that followed, Phyr'shalee started building up her own fighting style gathering the weapons of her own choice and minor armour patches for her defence. Additionally, she picked whatever she considered useful for weaving; this time, intentionally solitary due to her past experiences with other slaves, the drider began performing her craft once again even with the improvised tools she created from the armour or weapons of fallen warriors, or whatever else she found.

By her third year in the Arena, Phyr'shalee had gained fame as a gladiator among the other slaves held there; she was known of using the little magic she had managed mastering all these years to take down the threats she faced, she had managed making the various guards of the cells either more suspicious or more cautious of her, and even managed creating minor illusions to fool her enemis during combat; creating distractions, altering her characteristics for a fear factor, and other such tricks that could very easily make anyone too careless or inexperienced with magic fall for.

Phyr'shalee's solitude only increased, though she was sure to plot her own escape should the chance arise. After almost one-and-a-half decades of slaver, herself having lived less than four decades, she had learned who to trust, who to count on, and who to help when the situation arose: anywhere she looked, the answer was noone. Looking for news from the outside world as much as possible, the drider sought for a chance to break her chains and end her torment; her body, after all, had grown to bear countless marks of the various hits she suffered in the arena, as well as the whipping of her masters even before she had gone there.

Over six years after she first fought in the Black Dragon Tavern, Phyr'shalee had luck smile at her for the first time in sixteen years; apparently someone had been impressed by her performance and sought to purchase her. The past few months, the battles had started becoming more and more difficult, with more and more dangerous opponents, who or which she managed to defeat at a great effort with many wounds on her own. Perhaps, changing a master would also mean a safer future; and a possible escape as soon as she was outside the well-guarded Black Dragon gladiator cells.

Things were far better than they had originally seemed though; not just anyone had been impressed, as it seemed, but a noble, and moreover a noble of the Val'Beldrobbaen clan, of which Phyr'shalee had heard of many times for being a lot more accepting towards driders than any other clan was. Masendriea Val'Beldrobbaen, the noble who eventually purchased Phyr'shalee, seemed just too good to be true; eventually, the drider was not only freed from her chains, but also offered a position in the clan as a warrior, at her thirty-five years of age. For a first time after sixteen years of endless torment, Kalandrin was now back: breathing the air of freedom, secure from the whip of a master, getting to choose her own name as well.

Even though Kalandrin was now given a chance for an almost completely normal life in the ranks of the Beldrobbaen clan, solitude had become more than a quality of hers; more like an addictive habit, just like her lack of trust to almost everyone. Masendriea's move had made the drider swear allegiance to the clan that offered her a place she could call home; the noble herself gained Kalandrin's gratefulness, and could for sure boast she was one of the few, if any, persons, Kalandrin could claim she put some trust upon.

Upon managing to buy proper weaving equipment, Kalandrin fully withdrew to her quarters, spending her time weaving to make some savings of her. Even though in the beginning she was commonly visited by other slaves, if not herself simply passing by her room, the noise and people were simply too much for her to bear even for the Beldrobbaen fortress. As such, the drider managed to scare off most of them, both for her silence as well as her reputation; if those slaves managed to learn of her past, they would simply open the wounds she had managed to shut with so much effort and pain.

Unfortunately for her, this too became a bad habit; Kalandrin became overprotective of her past, both because she did not want any more people learn of her being an ex slave, and the weakling she was. The drider found ways to scare those who bothered her off, or freaked them out - and unfortunately for those who got too close to finding out of her past, or simply to herself, she got bothered very often, becoming some sort of hermit with only a spider in her room as company.

The only time Kalandrin spent outside the fortress was either for some task, selling her crafts to merchants, or simply spending some free time in Klar'bol, adoring the imports from the surface and whatever else appeared in display there. In such an excursion - intending to do nothing more than simply look around - Kalandrin found a person that turned out to be worthy of her interest and kindness; a human ex-gladiator slave named Gosser, apparently on sale because of something he had done to his masters.

Gosser was being whipped by his mistress for "stopping his display and bothering her about a drider" - put simple enough, as a surface-origined human, Gosser had never seen another drider in his short time in the Underworld and had dared asking about the one he had just seem - Kalandrin. Eventually bought by the drider, Gosser soon became a person she could definitely call loyal and trustworthy - eventually given fine clothing, silver bracelet and collar for less weight, and even his own collar. Even Kalandrin's solitude appeared to ward off Gosser, who she started seeing more as a friend rather than a subject of hers; having been a slave herself, she hated ordering slaves around unless she considered it absolutely necessary.

As such, the past few months of Kalandrin's life, her tight, adamantine shell has began opening, if not breaking; the bully of one of the most silent quarters of the Beldrobbaen fortress has began embracing the warmth of having the company of another person, growing trust and friendliness for more than a single person inside her. Despite bearing a hatred or dislike for almost everything - the Sharen, the Vloz'ress, the Sullisin'rune, the Sarghress, the Waelinder, the Streekaiders, and the list simply goes on - for a ton of different reasons, Kalandrin Fre'ana Val'Beldrobbaen has began something almost new to her - becoming social, even though at the tiniest pace possible.

Description:
    Height: 5 ft 2 in / 1 m 57 cm
    Width: 7 ft 5 in / 2 m 25 cm
    Weight: 119 lb / 54 kg
    Eye Colour: Purple
    Hair Colour: Black
    Appearance: Kalandrin is a drider typically standing at 173 cm (5'8") and stretching out to an average of 225 cm (7'5") though frequently elevating herself when she needs to observe at greater distances or add a fear factor to her appearence, and stretching or pulling her legs tighter if she needs to do so (such as to get through one of the many narrow doors or passages she will find, attempt and grab an opponent with her front legs in a battle, and so on). From past experiences, as well as the spider nature she possesses, Kalandrin's lower (spider) body is close to the ground, not allowing large creatures like humans or drow to sneak under her.

    Wearing reinforced and convenient black-coloured spidersilk clothing - or rather, light armour - combined with her black hair and skin, Kalandrin Val'Beldrobbaen not only embraces this dark look, but adds to it ever-hostile looks towards anything that is around her. While not always as hostile, the drider is always paranoid enough to never cease giving looks around for early warning and enhancing her defence before someone can attack her; other times, she seems as though she is waiting for someone to stand up and insult her, or otherwise provoke her.

    Kalandrin always carries with her a pair of twin, finely crafted yatagans, each of circa 80 cm overall length, as well as a flask with water. Her clothing, though varying from time to time, is always covering her entire torso and significant part of her spider half (including parts of her legs), as well as her neck, with the colour always being that of her clan; jet black. In addition, she is always found bearing a Val'Beldrobbaen clan symbol either on the shoulder, or right below her neck, the spider-like symbol over what looks like a spider's webs. The Beldrobbaen 'spider' on the symbol is usually found represented by a nearly black gem worked on the clothes, rather than a weaved circle.

    As a warrior, Kalandrin prefers simple hair styles that never interfere with her sight. The length of her hair is not at all short, her despising short hair due to their symbolism of a lower status in the society, yet keeping them short enough to keep her sight not interfered with when she fights; which is not as common, but definitely significant for someone as combat-orientated as her. In combat against persons inexperienced with magic, she will use her illusion skills to maximum to distract the enemy or add a fear factor, often by altering her characteristics.

    Personality: Noone can deny that Kalandrin is a very eccentric person, sadistic and hostile to most people she meets. Utterly reclusive and trusting a select few, the rumours of her being either insane or near that among the slaves and some clan members of the Beldrobbaen Clan give and take non stop; though she never bothers to react or comment on it, as though she chooses to give fuel to those rumours.

    Despite her both voluntary and not solitude, Kalandrin is someone who will definitely come out and talk when it comes to matters of honour and loyalty. When her clan needs her, she eagerly leaves the silent serenity of her quarters to serve it, often disregarding her own health when it comes to service - after all, her life for the past twenty-six years has all but been anywhere near "pleasant", often giving her reasons to throw herself directly to death's grasp (and yet she doesn't, outside combat at least). She is also known from swinging moods from time to time, yet noone can tell for sure if it is deliberate or not.

    As a person, Kalandrin appears to be very sadistic among others, and not friendly to anyone; yet, the truth lies deep beneath the adamantine shell of the bully she maintains. Being very emotional, deep inside her there is still the young child who asks for some recognition and company. Someone could say she suppresses her true emotions as much as a warden does; another might claim that it is tougher to make her smile than a fanatic Kyorl'solenurn warden. The truth might vary from time to time, though the adamantine shell she is hidden at seems to have been shattering ever since the purchase of her slave, Gosser.


Xian wrote:Kalandrin: This redux is quite happily approved by Xian.


Note: Xian has said that this was stamp worthy... I've always wanted to do this...

APPROVED
Last edited by kembaru on Tue Jun 20, 2006 7:59 am, edited 2 times in total.
kembaru
Walking Contradiction
 
Posts: 1969
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Tar'lyn Umrae'yirr Val'Kyorl'solenurn by Izz'la'mar

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 10:47 am

Name: Tar'lyn Umrae'yirr Val'Kyorl'solenurn
Race: Drowussu
Age: 120
Sex: Male
Equipment:

On Person: Hauptmann style bastard sword, kite shield, full plate armour, additional gems for sealing, dagger, hip mounted pouch for aforementioned gems, ada and over small items which he may need to carry. 50 Ada.

Inlulk'lar quarters: Varying clothing, additional gems, meditation powder, incense, desk converted into a small shrine for personal use, 200 ada personal saving, equipment maintainance stuff ie cleaning oil, buffing rags, etc.

Chel'el'susseloth Quarters: Some rather dusty clothing, a cobweb covered sword in a cupboard. Old incense, meditation powder and a clean statue of Sharess on a desk.

Magic: Sealing and ice high art (ice arrow, missile, shield, etc)
Beginning City: Val'Reveran
Clan: Val'Kyorl'solenurn
Background:

Tarlyn has always been a fairly fun loving person, carefree and easy going especially as a child. He always had a large group of friends and those included his future partner in all things, Kyori, who would be his warden in the years to come. In those early years he and Kyori shared that spirit but unlike her he would manage to retain some of that childhood happiness despite the rigorous training he would undergo to become a templar even if he would never be that close to those same friends again.

Maybe this preservation of his spirit was down to the Sharess or it might just have been down to the fact his specific templar training was started four years earlier than expected and the school and tutors took it easy on him and didn't try to break his spirit in those years because of his age even if they did instill in him the tennets of Holy Eye Sharessism. The reason for this unorthodox starting age was because Tarlyn's mother, no matter what anyone said to her, would not have her niece be ready for active duty without her son at her side. It was quite the general consensus that Tarlyn's mother was the most stubborn and proud drowussu anyone knew of when she got an idea in her head, though this same stubbornness had not been the reason for the chosing of the pairing luckily for Kyori's parents.

Tarlyn's unconventional start to his training began with a great deal of personal tutoring as well as normal classes at the main drowussu school because while Tarlyn's mother was stubborn and prideful she was also not blinded to the fact that her son would be four years junior to everyone in the appropriate classes and he needed to catch up. Under the best tutors the Umrae'yirrs could afford and the correct motivation from such a formiddable mother Tarlyn quickly began to close the gap even if he had little time to have fun in. Much of what little spare time he received was spent with Kyori as was encouraged and as she was his friend anyway. His other friendships soon faded into acquaintances he kept in contact with, more often via the occasional letter than seeing them and often it would be a case of saying hello in the street or at the temple but always somehow remaining warm in tone.

After the initial few years of such training he was on par with his fellow templars-to-be if a little smaller than them. Luckily for Tarlyn drowussu are not as quick to assert dominance over those smaller or weaker than them as their dark cousins and he got by with little bullying especially with the help of his cousin who was close to the top of her warden classes. He enjoyed his schooling, he became good with blades although of course he was never quite as good as his classmates due to his size and he never really tried again with large two handed weapons after a rather comical scene where he tried to wield one and failed miserably. He also enjoyed his magical tuition which taught him the basics of mana manipulation and also sealing but also in later years on other potentially useful skills of which he elected to be trained in the high arts of ice. His duty would still be with the blade but now he would learn to support that with something more than basic mana soreries.

Over the years both warden and templar became strong and capable, both taking to their religion with the appropriate zeal that their instructors and parents were proud to see. Kyori eventually graduated in her fourtieth year and the pair were assigned their very first task with which they could properly test their skills and zeal. A Jaal'darya noble had developed a habit of sending her golem to collect a new dress for her mistress each month, the noble saw it as a great joy to see what 'gift' the golem would bring her each month rather than just buying new clothes and the golem had been tailored to suit her needs and wants as all their creations are. The pair had been assigned to ensure the golem would never make it back to its mistress on its upcoming trip. They ambushed the creature in the middle of the market place after it had bought the dress it thought its mistress would like the most and they did their duty. The creature shuddered and gasped when it was finally caught and the blade went it in a most disconcerting manner, almost like it was a real person only with extra limbs... He had not expected something he had thought of as completely inhuman so to speak to be like that. He told himself it was his duty and got on with it and was reassured by Judicator about how they "Lacked any real soul or personality but instead possessed a heretical mockery of Sharess's gifts to us and were an affront to her" this helped him harden himself to what he could potentially see as something naive and innocent that he would have to kill.

Tar'lyn became worried for Kyori over the coming years. Her zeal escalated to terrifying proportions and she eventually began killing everything in sight which she could brand impure or heretical and was generally aggressive with the drowolath she met. Tar'lyn tried to get her to see reason but she wouldn't have it and often shut him up by questioning his loyalty to her as she came under increasing pressure within in the clan and she was his friend as well as warden and even through her insanity he was loyal to her. He didn't overly enjoy the amount of killings and trouble his warden was causing and the extent to which she was taking the Holy Eye's doctrine. While the Holy Eye demanded the purity of the drow and drowussu races Tar'lyn often found it difficult to kill a light elf half breed because they were innocent as such and had often done nothing in themselves to offend the Sharess other than being born, if there was anyone who should have ben punished it should have been the parents of such bastard offspring. Tar'lyn, in these cases, would always do his duty though, Kyori was working for the will of Sharess and it was his duty to follow her and she wasn't going against anything as such just going progressively further with it as time passed. The regrets he had being involved with purifying half-breeds though were not shared in the part he played in the suppression of the first seeding experiments. The summoners were offending Sharess in one of the worst possible ways as well as violating the sanctity of their own and innocent souls. The victims were doomed to suffer torment for the rest of their lives at a demon they could never be free of other than in death which would slowly consume them and claw away at them before consuming them and being free to roam the world Sharess banished them from. To kill the summoners would be justice and to kill the victims would be a release for them, that he was sure of and the Nidraa'chal well... they were almost all bordering on becoming demons themselves as well as being victims.

The rift between the pair didn't just stop at their outlook on religious issues though. Kyori was growing to dislike if not hate the drowolath for various reasons whereas Tar'lyn always looked at them as sadly misguided except for a few cases of outright evil or heresy. The clan was becoming more and more concerned about this young problematic warden and her templar was sharing their concerns, at first they tried talking to him and seeing if he could talk some sense into to her despite already having tried himself but then things came to a head when at last they interfered directly and warned her to curb her attitude and zealotry which offended her deeply. It was after this incident that Kyori had her accident which stripped her of her memory.

No one knew of the incident until she was discovered unconscious a few hours later, Tar'lyn was informed two hours after that and immediately rushed to the side of the bed she had been moved to. There he stayed for days refusing to leave and sleeping propped in the chair at her bedside, despite the recent rift between them their bond was still strong as the years spent together had been intended to make it. Relatives of both occupants of the room came in those few days and it was Tar'lyn who of course had to make with the awkward pleasantries of such occasions, what do you say in those situations? No one ever seemed to know and all they seemed to tell him was that the Sharess was kind and to have faith in her. Tar'lyn did a lot of prayer in this time, it filled a lot of his vigil over the dormant form of his warden and cousin and gave him something to hold onto as several days passed and she did not wake.

The better part of a week had passed before Kyori stirred or showed any sign of life other than shallow breathing and when she did Tar'lyn was elated, he would have hugged her if not for her position in the bed and weakened state. There was a great problem which showed itself rather quickly though, she had no memory of places, people and many other things.

This was highly disconcerting for Tar'lyn and he sought out the healers who had been put in charge of Kyori's case and they told him it wasn't common but it did happen in some cases. They told him her memory would return though it might take some time, he trusted them but even they weren't all that sure of what they said, it wasn't often you encountered a case of amnesia you just normally heard about them second or third hand. He returned to her with some hope in his heart that she would recover and return to her normal self intent on helping her all he could, as he should and wanted to.

While the family heirarchy had cooled its hostility towards his warden since the accident which had effectively neutered her as a problem, very few others were so forgiving. Once Kyori was released from the care of the healers she faced the repercussions of everything she had done in her fanaticism and couldn't hope to understand why anyone was like this to her. No one seemed to have forgotten about the trouble she caused or the reputation she had and Tar'lyn was being forced to watch his friend and warden being made steadily more reclusive and introverted by it. On top of this Tar'lyn was approached by two high ranking wardens, one from his and one from Kyori's family, come to talk to him about what was happening with Kyori. At first Tar'lyn was really rather pleased by this, their families were showing they cared about her well being and the treatment she was receiving from everyone around her, it soon emerged though that this wasn't precisely the reason they had come. They began to talk about how this was Sharess's will and how she could be 'influenced more in fitting with the will of the Goddess' in this golden opportunity. Tar'lyn was upset by this meeting but never told Kyori of it, in her state she wasn't able to understand it anyway and after not speaking about it it was just not an issue which needed to be talked about. While he didn't want Kyori to be the consumed extremist she once was he didn't want her manipulated and carved into something like that, she was his friend and almost a sister to him. It was soon after this that Tar'lyn suggested the move to Reveran to Kyori to aid her recovery, there should be away from the people who knew of her, the rising troubles in Chel and the influence of their families at least until she recovered.

They arrived at the Inlulk'lar within several weeks of the accident having made a hasty if polite departure from the Kyorl'solenurn fortress, taking their leave within a week of the meeting Tar'lyn had had. His family were sure he would try and keep Kyori from her previous excesses and so had let him go gladly despite how he had been perturbed by the meeting they had arranged. The journey was fairly uneventful, a few streekaider were chased off when they came too close for comfort at one stop but other than that nothing happened. When they arrived at the Inlulk'lar they were given a double room in the permanent residence section which highly embarassed Tar'lyn, as it turned out they had got the message that they were a mated pair and prepared for their arrival as such, Kyori was obviously embarassed too as he remembered how she blushed at the mistake and the assumption a fair deal. Tar'lyn slept in the temporary quarters that night while the preparations were made for his permanent accommodation.

As the months went by Kyori recovered slowly, sometimes regaining last memory and sometimes having her new experiences fill the gaps of those old ones as she relearned things. After a few months both Kyori and Tar'lyn were restless from lack of things to do other than sit and ponder and so they began to resume their duties in this new city slowly. It didn't take long before Kyori was wanting to fully resume her duties once more in fact within a year she was put on full active duty once more. Kyori was a much less fanatical if still zealous warden after she returned to duty and without her distinct dislike of the drowolath. Tar'lyn much preferred when their duties involved the tainted than half-breeds still but at least his warden was lacking that extremism when it came to their being dealt with while still doing what was necessary. The pair worked like this for the coming years, Kyori had the stress of her position but she dealt with it as one who followed the Goddess truly should, with wisdom and dignity despite what she had been through in recent years.

The Nidraa'chal coup d'état attempt shook everyone within the Kyorl'solenurn clan and even those outside of it to a lesser degree in Reveran. A tainted to the core group add attack the imperial clan, Val'Sharen, in their home city, attacking civilians and troops alike. Other clans were shaken, the Kyorl'solenurn just became more determined. They redoubled their efforts in their duties, that being the rooting out and eradicating of the tainted, their dangerous cults and their agents and sympathisers.

The Vloz'ress progression from cult to clan and the alteration of Val to Vel in the imperial clan of their home city was a blow most especially for those who had migrated from Chel'el'susseloth. Their home city was going to the abyss it seemed and they were stationed in Reveran! Still they had a city to help keep pure and protect here whether they wanted to help Chel'el'susseloth or not and two faithful drowussu would make only a small difference there whereas they might make a large difference in Reveran now that the tainted had emerged to a position of greater power. Kyori succumbed to the stress soon after hearing the news of the Vel'Sharen and retreated to prayer for the aid of Sharess in these difficult times and to help her come to terms with what had happened back in the city which had birthed her. Kyori spent four days in prayer to the Goddess before reemerging more determined than ever to cleanse and protect from the insideous influence of the demons, a call to which Tar'lyn was more than happy to assist her with.

The problem of the tainted in Reveran grew as the Vloz'ress established a settlement close to Reveran. More tainted flowed into Reveran with the Vloz'ress and the work of the templars and wardens increased with the burden they represented. The demonic menace seemed to be spreading like a cancer through the underworld despite the efforts of the Kyorl'solenurn. With such an influx though in so short a period of time and so soon after the news of the tainting of the Val'Sharen it was too much for Kyori who started to lose faith in the face of such seemed futility. Tar'lyn wasn't sure what to do, he'd never seen her lose faith before and he was really worried for her.

Tar'lyn consulted the inquisitors as to what to do. In time of such trials they could act as counsellors for the faithful as well as useful allies and cleansers for heretics. They told him that he should help her as they knew he already wished to and that if he alone could not prevail in the Goddess's name against her despair then they would join the cause and assist her back onto the right path. He spent the next few days with very light duties so that he could spend time with Kyori and talk to her, to comfort and reassure her of her faith and that what they did in the name of Sharess was worthwhile despite the demonic taint spreading for the moment. Kyori was in a highly emotional state throughout and at one point she cracked and began to cry. Tar'lyn immediately went to comfort his warden, it was rare nobles hugged but it was still something that happened, as he leant in to hug her she responded. Quietening her crying for a second as she leant in towards him, only as approached it all wrong and then when she was really close she hugged him as normal. Tar'lyn's gut was telling him very strange things, had she tried to kiss him? He might just have imagined it but what did it say about him if he was imagining these things about someone who was his sister? Well, not his sister really and... that wasn't helping... Either way he could easily have imagined it, she was like a sister to him, why would she do something like that anyway? Of course the confusion did not die after the incident but it was pushed out of his immediate thinking after a while as he had no reason to think that she would attempt to kiss him.

Kyori recovered from her faltering of faith with his assistance over the coming weeks and returned to full duty as zealously as ever. Tar'lyn attempted not to think about the incident over the coming years as he had nothing to go on to determine whether his gut was wrong or not, yet he never quite forgot it, it coming to mind occasionally demanding some further assessment on his part. They concerntrated on trying to eliminate any Sharen that came to the city and as many as the Vloz'ress as they could find and kill when they were on duty. The war on the tainted for these two had resumed with full faith and they weren't about to let up on them, it was necessary considering their spread. Their latest target are a pair of soulseekers out to harvest some souls for their mistress from the pure population of Reveran.

Description: Tar'lyn is a tall and heavily muscled male, needing his strength to carry the platemail armour he wears for his duty. He has hazel eyes and hazel mid-length hair, liking the fact that they match even if hazel in eye colour and hazel in hair colour mean quite different things. He carries himself with the dignity his templar role demands but is a lot more relaxed than the majority of drowussu off duty.

His armour consists of platemail decorated simply with the Holy Eye on the chest and is always kept in good condition. His platemail is steel with some adamantium elements on sections he believes need the extra protecton. The adamantium parts of his armour are his helmet which he only occasionally uses, breastplate, pauldrons, thigh guards and gauntlets which extend half way up his forearm and his shield. His shield has three gems set into the back for back of his shield for use in sealing.

Height: 5'11
Weight: 190lbs
Eye Colour: Hazel centred with the typical drow red pupil
Hair Colour: Hazel
Personality: Tar'lyn is relatively relaxed in private for a drowussu templar but a man whose duty matters to him and tries not to seem contrary to what a templar should be while on duty. He is immensely loyal and close to Kyori and has stuck with her through thick and thin with her through the years. He is also less ruthless with half-breeds than he should be but doesn't like fighting the Jaal'darya because the golems squirm and scream in ways that unsettle him but will dispatch them as he dispatches the tainted which is as ruthlessly as any other templar.

Edit: Altered any references to half breeds to make sure they referred specifically to the light elf variety.

Xian wrote:Izz'la'mar and Kalandrin: Maybe I'm not as educated as I should be, but I just have to ask, what's all this stuff about the Kyorl'Solenurn hunting half-breeds? I can see that they hunt down light elf/drow crosses from Rebirth, but I just don't know about this whole hunting down of drowussu/drowolath hybrids. Where's it say this?

I'm asking you this question because both of you deserve the gigantic stamp, but I want to figure this out first. Someone PM me with this information, and I'll also ask Kern later on if I can get ahold of him.

I mean, really, this makes no difference to your submissions. They're both excellent, and it's a minor issue that is so easily overlooked that I'm going to do just that. Still, I'm curious, so let me know.

APPROVED (to both of you)
Last edited by kembaru on Thu Apr 13, 2006 10:59 am, edited 1 time in total.
kembaru
Walking Contradiction
 
Posts: 1969
Joined: Sat Nov 27, 2004 12:00 pm
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Kyori Umrae'yirr Val'Kyorl'solenurn by Kalandrin

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 10:50 am

    Name: Kyori Umrae'yirr Val'Kyorl'solenurn
    Race: Drowussu
    Age: 124
    Sex: Female
    Equipment: On person: Yatagan; stiletto; reinforced spidersilk dress with worked-in chain mail serving as light armour; partial plate armour; reinforced spidersilk robes combined with the armour; pouch with gems; pouch with 50 ada. [Armour is described in detail in the "Appearence" section.] In the fortress, Chel'el'sussoloth: Sets of clothes; a few additional gems; large metallic Kyorl'solenurn symbol over door; small shrine, used for prayer, fully equipped; 250 ada. In Inlulk'lar, Raveran: A few additional gems; sets of clothes; corner converted to a small shrine, used for prayer, fully equipped; 150 ada; armour and weapon maintanance equipment.
    Magic: Minor nether summoning, sealing, blood sorcery (stopping or adding to bleeding, blood arrow, etc)
    Beginning City: Val'Raveran
    Clan: Val'Kyorl'solenurn
    Background:
    Summary
    Warden Kyori Umrae'yirr Val'Kyorl'solenurn was born in the Val'Kyorl'solenurn clan in Chel'el'sussoloth, subject to an unfortunate accident in her sixty-three years of age leaving her amnesiac for a large period of time. Kyori, with the help of her Templar, Tar'lyn Val'Kyorl'solenurn, has been slowly recovering ever since in Val'Raveran, while still performing her full duties as a warden.

    Detailed background
    Kyori was born in the Kyorl'solenurn Clan Fortress one hundred and twenty-four years in the past. As a child, she started a lot less serious and more playful than anyone could possibly suspect when he or she meets her at present. Before her training began, the drowussu girl had a lot of friends, was easy to communicate with others, and all in all was a very social person, rarely ever serious. This, though, was bound to change as soon as her training began, at her ten years of age, effectively shattering most of her friendships and relations with anybody but the drowussu boy that would become her templar; her cousin, Tar'lyn.

    It took more time than it was expected to make Kyori's rebel spirit ward off and be put aside; eventually, though, despite the needed effort, Kyori became one of the 'star students' around, showing great dedication, will to learn more and more on the religion of the Sharess, as well as enforce what she was being taught; above all else, secure the purity of the drowussu race, as well as its security from the ever-chaotic drowolath around them. The formerly rebel was quick to become a student who learned quickly the way of the blades as much as manipulating magic.

    Devoting too much time in studying, Kyori in the second decade of her life was now with few persons to ever talk with, including Tar'lyn; as they were destined, the two children spent most of their free time together, in the attempt to create a strong warden/templar bond for the centuries of life they had to come. As such, it took less time than one would expect for the drowussu girl to redirect all the friendliness she had towards that specific boy.

    Strictly educated like all other wardens, Kyori grew to become a very fanatical, always-on-duty warden who kept haunting the streets of Chel'el'sussoloth hunting sentient Jaal'darya creations, light elf-drow crossbreeds, the first of the tainted that were springing up in that time, and whatever else could be branded as an impurity of the drow race. She quickly grew to dislike the drowolath for the aberrations they had created, it including streekaiders, waelinder, and other.

    It was not too long until duty came first above all other either; the enforcement of what they had learned, and the first mission they had to fulfill as soon as she had completed her training, being forty years old. Essentially, the first mission concerned taking down a sentient Jaal'darya golem; the task was not difficult for Kyori and Tar'lyn, and the mission was executed with the expected ease. Since then, Kyori's patrols around the city became more intensive, with more thorough search for what was evil and should be taken down.

    At the same time, in the Kyorl'solenurn fortress, in an unexpected discussion with an unexpectedly rebellious slave, Kyori gained the first signs of respect for the light elves; although she has always been considering them as weaklings, it was then that for a first time she realized the similarities they had with the drow races, though still putting a clear line of seperation between the two; especially in the sexual sense, unwilling to see crossbreeds that tainted the purity of her race.

    The respect Kyori holds for the light elves though, she doesn't hold nor show towards the goblins, and especially the orcs. With most encounters she had faced turning out catastrophic, the drowussu has since her early years been considering the goblinoids as nothing more than intelligent animals, in the best case. She often wishes to point out that "one human is worth more than an orc, just like five orcs are worth more than five humans".

    Her fanaticism only kept growing with the years, surpassing the known levels for many cases. Kyori was more and more often in the city and especially after the birth of the Nindraa'chal, taking down whatever she considered impure, coming to even defy allied clan members, and engaging in painful skirmishes from a time to time. Eventually, the higher ranks of the subhouse came down and not complained, but warned Kyori of backing down to more reasonable levels. At the same time, it was now clear that many of those who knew Kyori had grown to dislike, if not hate her; there were many times she would go to the extreme, creating havoc with her behaviour even among the ranks of the allies of the clan she encountered.

    Kyori was outraged, heading for her room as soon as her discussions with her superiors had finished. Was it ungratefulness? Was it betrayal? Was it both? Her mind, nearing psychotic conditions, was unsure how to call that. She never considered herself overzealous and exceptionally fanatic; only a tool that was being used. Seeking a way to take her revenge in a crisis of anger, the woman slammed the door behind her as she entered her room like no other time; forcefully enough to make the large metallic Kyorl'solenurn symbol over it fall, injuring her head severely. At this point, Kyori was sixty-three years old, a finely shaped adult drowussu.

    The next thing she remembered was a couple of days later, in a room she did not remember ever before seeing, in a city of an unknown land; a kind, stranger man appearing nearby, seeming pleased, if not very happy, that she had awoken. Who was she? Where was she, and above all else, what was she doing there? Kyori lacked memory overall; she had completely blacked out, not remembering anything after the forceful hit, other than feeling immense pain on top of her head.

    Even today, if Kyori is asked about this situation she suffered, she would definitely give the major credit to her cousin and templar, Tar'lyn. When she still lacked the knowledge of who she was, where she was, and what she was, he was the only person she could interact with without getting odd looks and behaviour she did not understand; the hostility of the others originally affected her personality to become more reclusive and shy, to eventually condemn much of her 'old self' as soon as she realized what had gone wrong; which did not come for several years.

    The hostility of most who saw her, as well as the chaos of Chel'el'sussoloth led the warden and the templar to the decision to leave the city, seeking a calmer place to perform their duties, while still close to their clan. Raveran seemed ideal at the time: it had less 'impurities' of the Jaal'darya to encounter, as well as seemed calm and corrupt enough for them to continue performing their duties without the hostility of the rest of Kyori's surroundings, something which could be proven crucial for the woman's return into a normal pace. As such, Kyori got to Val'Raveran a few weeks after the accident which costed her memory occured.

    At first, Kyori was still very confused; the people she encountered either did not care, or were hostile at her; few would sit and discuss with her, even if she managed to attempt and talk to them. The feeling of being a complete alien in a world she found oddly familiar but was unknown to her led to her becoming more reclusive, ingoing and self-orientated; apparently, the only person who seemed to both know her and be nice to her was Tar'lyn, hence she slowly starting to feel an unexpressed sympathy towards his person.

    Upon arriving in Inlulk'lar, Kyori was stunned by a mistake that had happened; mistaken for a mated pair rather than a warden-templar one due to the settlement's inhabitants not knowing exactly who would arrive, Kyori and Tar'lyn were to be given a double room for their permanent accomodation. With the first thoughts of sympathy already in her mind, Kyori was absolutely speechless for the duration of the incident, blushed and unable to look directly at Tar'lyn for quite some time. Before she could either accept or deny the offer, all had been changed appropriately; good chance or not, the opportunity was lost before the 'new' Kyori could exploit it in any manner, if she even desired to do so.

    Spending most of her time with him now, Kyori got seriously the task of getting used to her surroundings; it took very little time for her determination and zealousness to return to their full strength, her piousness still present as well but all without the flavour of extremism that was around her before. To her, it was clear: this accident was the Will of the Sharess for her to change, and she would embrace this change as much as she could, whilst fulfilling her need and urge to know more about the past she lacked knowledge of.

    As such, it did not take the pair too long to return to duty; despite her occasional need for guidance in the very beginning, Kyori seemed to perform excellent in the hunts of the corrupt, the impure, the tainted, the cross-breeds, and whatever other evil they faced in the streets and buildings of Val'Raveran. Someone could say that her blind fanaticism after the accident occured had been turned into a passion for not only the preservation of the racial purity, but also the race's betterment.

    The years passed 'happily', with Kyori's memories returning at a slow pace partly due to the severe hit she had suffered, and partly due to the more and more time she spended in her duties again, effectively reducing her time to sit and wonder daily to a few hours, perhaps including her time of rest in many overloaded days. The stress and zeal of a warden had returned for good within the very first year of the accident; this was something noone could, at all, doubt, though anyone could admit her excess was no longer present.

    The Nindraa'chal Coup in Chel'el'sussoloth, which came like a lightning in the middle of the night sky, considerably affected Kyori's duty. The tainted had surpassed all levels of tolerance and sanity: attacking neutral, vulnerable citizens unprovoked, beginning a conflict that escalated into war. The warden simply threw more weight for the elimination of the tainted, and the corrupt who served them or were affiliated with them; from simple demonic shells, they had apparently become the demons themselves.

    It was not too long later until the Vloz'ress emerged, and the Val'Sharen clan became the Vel'Sharen. Psychologically shattered and unable to stand too much weight on her shoulders, due to the sudden emergence of the tainted into positions with much prestige and power not only for Chel'el'sussoloth, but the Underworld as a whole, Kyori withdrew to her own quarters for four full days, asking for the Goddess' guidance through prayers.

    When Kyori came out of her four-day long solitude, she had come more determined to set an end to this plague as ever; with an occasional outburst of her former, pre-accident self emerging when stress was too much, her hunts became more thorough, more intensive concerning the tainted, the warden and the templar doing their best to purify the Drow race from demonic and tainted blood, though, as it seemed, the tainted numbers were on the rise. If this meant throwing less weight on drow-elf halfbreeds and even Jaal'darya golems, then so would it be.

    It was natural that another breakdown would follow sooner or later; Kyori was seemingly losing faith, as for every "demon-shell" they had managed to kill, even more drowolath seemed to having switched over sides to the tainted ranks. The warden was shattered, stress rapidly overcoming her logic, forcing her to withdraw to herself for some more time. Was it worth it? What should they do? On the brink of total collapse, she let her emotions free and sought the help of Tar'lyn and the guidance of the Sharess once again.

    Emotionally shattered, Kyori felt naked in a blizzard for quite some time, alone and deeply hurt. How could the Sharess let such a thing happen, the Imperial Clan fall to the hands of demons and their shells? How could the Vloz'ress reach Raveran? In a rare moment where she could hardly anymore suppress her emotions and feelings, Kyori cried, seeking emotional support for the first time in her life and allowing herself to be what she was suppressing to put forward her warden role; a woman, even for the few hours she felt like this.

    The uncontrolled feelings of a person who suppressed them for over a century came like a storm in the middle of the sea; suddenly and strongly, quick to vanish and help her warden personality return to the position of power. Kyori, in her weakness - or maybe perhaps a moment of peace? - made something she would strongly regret for the years to come due to her shyness that came again on the surface, also reflecting the sympathy she held for Tar'lyn for the past few decades: almost kissing her cousin, with her barely managing to prevent herself from doing it and return to a more appropriate, for her habits and status, manner.

    For Kyori's softer self, it was no great loss though; luckily or not, Tar'lyn seemed to have not taken things badly, and after all he had come to comfort her, which meant that he still cared. For her tougher self though this meant more purging of her own feelings and desires, to prevent her very tight and conservative self from being defeated by a more liberal one, that suggested she could also live rather than only hunt down heretics and purifying her race from the tainted.

    With Tar'lyn's help, Kyori managed to quickly get over the most serious breakdown she had this far; after a couple of days dedicated to rest for all the stress to leave, Kyori returned to her full duties, fierce as ever and occasionally, though not at all very often, seeming to have returned to her personality as it was before her amnesia. Aside to that though, the cleansing went on steadily and smoothly for the next decade, with the most common target being whoever Vloz'ress and Sharen Kyori and Tar'lin could find.

    The years passed smoothly with the warden and her templar resuming their duties at the usual place, now especially targeting the Vloz'ress and Sharen clan members above all else, cleansing the city from their presence. The incident, though, was far from erased from their minds; it was simply put aside, occasionally taken into account again and re-evaluated. The pair's latest mission involves taking down a couple of soulseekers and cleansing Raveran from their presence; Tarlyn and Kyori have yet to fulfill it, having taken it into account as soon as the news of their enemies' arrival came.

    Description:
  • Height: 5 ft 6 in / 1 m 68 cm
  • Weight: 150 lb / 68 kg; 203 lb / 92 kg (with equipment)
  • Eye Colour: Green
  • Hair Colour: Brown
  • Appearance: Kyori is almost always found in her typical outfit, consisting of reinforced, warm and protective spidersilk robes of white colour with black decoration combined with her armour, the latter consisting partly of a deep purple-coloured reinforced spidersilk dress with white decorations with worked-in chain mail, and partly of black-coloured steel plate mail parts coated by adamantium around the neck. Her armour includes many gemstones used for her missions involving netherworld and tainted, and on her forehead she bears the Umrae'yirr subhouse symbol.

    Kyori's armour, in detail, consists of two main parts; spidersilk and metallic. Her spidersilk dress hides a layer of light chain mail (circa 1 cm thick) worked in between of two layers of spidersilk (circa 1 cm thick each, giving a total thickness of 3 cm) that cover both sides of her torso and the skirt that extends almost to her feet. The arms, instead of hiding chain mail, have a third layer of spidersilk (circa 0.5 cm thick, giving 2.5 cm total thickness) worked in between the other two, to allow greater mobility.

    On top of her spidersilk armour, Kyori wears metallic plate armour in sensitive areas lighter than those of heavy infantrymen like Templars and Sarghress infantry, consisting of chest armour, pauldrons and neck armour over her robes, as well as rerebraces, elbow cops and bracers for her arms beneath them. Kyori's boots are protected by greaves as well as poleynes for her knees. Kyori's helmet, which she might occasionally use depending on the seriousness of a conflict or hunt, is roughly based on the chalkedian helmet, giving her good sight and hearing, as well as being capable of being retracted upwards to reveal her face.

    The warden always carries a finely crafted and decorated yatagan made of damascened steel with her, it being her primary weapon, with an additional, equally well-made double-edged stiletto dagger with a sharp point which she often uses as an off-hand weapon in her right hand (Kyori is left-handed). Aside to these weapons, used primarily in either a defensive or offensive manner, Kyori is not often seen bearing much more equipment beyond additional gemstones in a pouch, as well as some money.

    Kyori's hair is always found in a style that involves it not blocking her sight during combat, which she engages rather often in her never-ending duties. She does, however, change hair styles quite often compared to many drow, holding her appearence at a high regard as much as she did before her accident.
  • Personality: The accident which left Kyori amnesiac greatly affected her personality, partly in a permanent manner. Currently, Kyori is very pious, rather shy, and largely distrustful of anyone but Tarlyn, equally including drowussu and drowolath in this. Even though after the accident she is somewhat more relaxed, she is still very zealous and tough to go off-duty, but though obviously more moderate than before.

    Kyori has always held her honour at a very high regard, together with her religion and duties. Sometimes her older self might come into surface, returning her to a more emotionless and ever-in-duty state than she has been after the accident, though she might not be entirely aware of these changes from time to time. She does, though, embrace her "new self", convinced it was the Will of the Sharess for this change to occur.

    Even though after her accident Kyori has been less strict than before, she is still a warden above all else, repressing her emotions to the maximum and having difficulties to go off-duty, often depending on the place and situation. There are, though, the times where her softer side might come to the surface, like it first did when she was struck on the head some six decades ago.
Edits history: (All times are GMT +2)
  • 13 March 2006, 15:47: Removed references to drowussu/drowolath hybrids, as requested by Xian. All "halfbreed" and "crossbreed" mentions involve half-drow half-light elf persons.


Xian wrote:Izz'la'mar and Kalandrin: Maybe I'm not as educated as I should be, but I just have to ask, what's all this stuff about the Kyorl'Solenurn hunting half-breeds? I can see that they hunt down light elf/drow crosses from Rebirth, but I just don't know about this whole hunting down of drowussu/drowolath hybrids. Where's it say this?

I'm asking you this question because both of you deserve the gigantic stamp, but I want to figure this out first. Someone PM me with this information, and I'll also ask Kern later on if I can get ahold of him.

I mean, really, this makes no difference to your submissions. They're both excellent, and it's a minor issue that is so easily overlooked that I'm going to do just that. Still, I'm curious, so let me know.

APPROVED (to both of you)
Last edited by kembaru on Thu Apr 13, 2006 10:58 am, edited 1 time in total.
kembaru
Walking Contradiction
 
Posts: 1969
Joined: Sat Nov 27, 2004 12:00 pm
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Illyria Tenssal Val'Ilhar'dro by Adrian

Postby kembaru » Thu Apr 13, 2006 10:55 am

Name: Illyria Tenssal Val'Ilhar'dro

Race: drowolath

Age: 44

Equipment:

On her person: clothing, a dirk, (sometimes) a bow and quiver of arrows, 30 ada

In her quarters in the Ilhar’dro compound: dresses in varying degrees of niceness, a set of flowing and official spellsongstress robes, a short sword, paints, brushes, and other art materials, 100 ada, a statuette carved by her brother sitting on a desk, miscellaneous personal items that belong in one’s room

Magic: Spellsong

Beginning city: Chel’Raveran

Clan: Val'Ilhar'dro

Background:

In the city of Raveran there exists a small, somewhat flighty, usually trustworthy subhouse of Clan Val’Ihar’dro called the Tenssal. Their Ilhar, Rhi’mar, is known for her excellent taste and her business sense; the rest of the family members, if known at all, are known for their artistry. As the Ilhar’dro are recognized for their love of beautiful and unusual things, so the Tenssal in kind specialize in creating them, often incorporating elements of magic as well as designs and ideas from all corners of the world (and even from the Surface).

It was into such a family that Illyria was born. As the third daughter and fourth child of Ver’ynne, daughter of Rhi’mar, she escaped a good deal of notice from the subhouse in her earliest years. If her family had followed aristocratic tradition, her sister Cyele would have raised her, but as it was, Ver’ynne was neither prudent in her love affairs nor patient about having her children: her youngest was born before her oldest was grown. While Ver’ynne raised the two eldest daughters, Ari’aren and Cyele, herself, the idea of raising four children at once was impossible to her. As such, after Illyria’s infancy, various and sundry members of the extended family contributed to her parenting, which occasionally made her early childhood very confusing. (She once overheard Rhi’mar suggest disapprovingly to her mother that this was having the negative effect of making Illyria flighty and irresponsible; her twelve-year-old self had been most silently indignant.)

Illyria and her brother Kendar’tho were the most energetic of children; they delighted in running around the clan’s houses or the marketplace, heading up raucous games that sometimes involved, quite accidentally, careening into pedestrians or treading on the tails of unfortunate ferals. The pair once knocked over an entire market stall while playing Guards and Thieves, at which point even Ver’ynne did begin to worry about them soiling the Tenssal reputation and restricted them to the house for a week solid. Despite their mishaps and their ferocity, neither child intentionally caused havoc or harm, and both grew to be both decent and charming as well as close companions.

One thing that her family did notice about Illyria was her propensity for song. When Illyria was fourteen, her sister, Ari’aren, was just finishing her studies at the Ilhar’dro school of Spellsong in Raveran as one of the highly acclaimed in her class. Illyria’s family said that she had the same potential, but though she loved song for its own sake, Illyria herself was resistant to the idea of following in her sister’s footsteps due to the loss of freedom and autonomy that she felt it would bring. The will of the subhouse, however, prevailed, and Illyria began her training at the age of fifteen. Her resistance was short lived – the child fell in love with the school and threw the same energy she had previously expended in wild escapades into her song. This is not to say that the next fifteen years saw no outbursts of wildness or mischief in Illyria; gradually, however, her slapdash childhood attitude evolved into a more mature persona. Her classmates found her lively and likeable, though prone to fantasies and wild ideas, and though she was never the center of attention she always enjoyed a few friends.

Illyria truly delighted learning the craft of the Spellsong. From her earliest memory, there had been something inexplicably stirring to her about music, and as she learned the spells, the intricacy of the notes and the patterns of melody and harmony and how to weave them together into a meaningful craft, though taxing, she found it to be heady and thrilling work. She learned to use song to strengthen and to uphold others in a fight, to heal and soothe the hurt, and to persuade and convince the strong-willed. And, curiously, she also learned to use song to paint.

It was her own idea, and a curious one, but she had heard distant stories of Spellsingers using their craft to aid them in creative endeavors. While she was at school, she began painting as a way to relax and unwind, and over time, she began to experiment in using Spellsong in her paintings. Though her craft as such is even now still amateur, she found that the Song gives life her hand, to the brush, and a particular vibrancy and life to the paintings. She has yet to create anything of drastically noticeable enchantment, but there is always the future.

As Illyria grew up, another area in which she trained was combat. Her family and indeed most Raveran families thought such skills to be as important as any other considering the unstable nature of their society. Though her schooling in weaponry was basic compared to those trained specifically for war, she’s not too bad in a fight. Her greatest talent lies in archery, but since it’s a little cumbersome to tote a bow and a quiver on a normal day, she often just carries a dirk.

One of her closest friends at the Spellsong school was, unusually, a Kyorl’solenurn called Alduri. While many of the children were unwelcoming and aggressive toward the Kyorl, especially as she was smaller than all of the other females and the only non-Ilhar'dro attending, Illyria was intrigued by her differences. The two chose to room together in their later years, and through Alduri, Illyria developed an interest in the culture and customs of the Kyorl’solenurn and a vague attraction to their less hedonistic, Sharessian lifestyle.

On one occasion Alduri confided that her father had been a drowolath, possibly an Ilhar’dro. Her mother had never told her the latter for certain, but Alduri suspected since it would account for her affinity for the Spellsong. The reason she had even been allowed to train in it was due to a trade agreement that her mother had helped to negotiate between subhouses of the Ilhar'dro and the Kyorl'solenurn. Her mother, Alduri smiled, was a resourceful woman. Though Alduri appeared drowussu in all her features, her mother, fearing the disapproval of the family, had had reason enough to keep Alduri’s paternity secret. The turmoil that this caused her friend roused Illyria’s sympathy, and as they continued to talk about it and about other aspects of their respective clans, she began to cultivate an interest in the greater world which had begun with the stories of far lands and peoples that she’d heard as a young child.

At the age of thirty, Illyria completed her training as a spellsongstress. Along with the successful others of the year including Alduri and many others among her friends, she sang in that year’s choir. It was exhilarating for her, for them all: though they weren’t the best the school had ever seen, they were good and they knew it. They rose to the occasion and performed well, and to this day Illyria remembers the night with distant fondness. And though of necessarily independent mind and temperament, it was also a joy to her, who had been so often unnoticed, that her family praised her that night; Ver’ynne was wildly proud to have two daughters skilled in the Ilhar’dro’s greatest magic, and Rhi’mar was likewise proud of her house. After the performance, she, Alduri, Kendar’tho and a few other close friends went out and got drunk off their faces, laughed until they cried, and were very sick in the morning. Illyria still swears that it was worth it.

Four years passed with relative peace, during which Illyria spent a good deal of her time painting and working with her Spellsong, the latter sometimes in a gathering of friends from the school but more often than not on her own or with Alduri. They were years of exploration, following what should have been the end of her childhood, but she was having difficulty figuring out a direction for herself: the other members of her family had seemed to slip so easily into their respective crafts; Kendar’tho was a sculptor, Cyele a jewelsmith, Ari’aren a scholar of magics. Illyria had her Spellsong, but though she had spent her life in its training, she couldn’t see it as a craft or a life-purpose like to the others. Her painting, also, seemed only to be a pastime, whereas she sought meaning in something. So she waited, a youngest daughter trying to grow up.

She didn’t often speak with her sister Ari’aren, even though they had the Spellsong in common and might have worked together. Their spellsinging styles, however, were as different as their other interests, and even from Illyria’s childhood they had had the tendency to butt heads due, she figured, to their shared stubbornness. And possibly, also, to Illyria's childhood drive to do as well as her older sister in things so that she, too, would be noticed and admired. Ari’aren was unlike most of the Tenssal; some said she resembled Rhi’mar in her ambition and her head for business, others said she was unlike any of the family and probably took after her unknown father. Either way, she had a heady desire for success and for power which Ver’ynne hoped would improve the Tenssal’s prestige. Others weren’t so sure.

In the fifth year following Illyria’s graduation from the School of Song, her brother Kendar’tho came asking for her help. Ari’aren, he explained, had gained the support of the Chial’ren, an upstart Ilhar’dro subhouse comprised of former merchants; they had agreed to make her Ilhar of the Tenssal in exchange for a large share of the trading wealth Rhi’mar had amassed. The coup was planned to take place in two days.

Illyria, slightly upset that her family had left her in the dark until now, even her brother, her childhood partner in all things, asked why he had only now come to tell her about such an important matter.

With a sad smile, Kendar’tho extended his hands, palms upward. “Sister, I only just now found out.â€
kembaru
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Joined: Sat Nov 27, 2004 12:00 pm
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