[Ssin'urn]

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, especially talented in Fire. (I do not intend to do power gaming or run around killing people, be it player or npc. It just was most convenient, as will be seen in the background.)


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. It quickly showed he was most proficient in the path of sorcery that best matched his fiery temper. Fire Sorcery. While not actually managing any spell in that path, as he would have to master the basics first, he could at least conjure a tiny ball of flame in his hands, barely enough to ignite anything.

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€

[Xian]

Ssin'urn: Let me begin on a positive note and say I really liked this submission. It was a good read, and I feel very familiar with your character because there was a lot of substance and explanation of motives in your background. Also some political intrigue and manipulation (with the two Sharen boys), which score mad points in my books.

Unfortunately, these points cannot be directly exchanged for an increase in power level. The sole issue I have with your character is the fact that he has mastered swordplay, plus every single element of the high art, with a nice affinity for fire as the icing on the cake. While I recognize that your character is 436 years old, and it's actually quite reasonable that he would be capable of learning all this stuff, that's well above the acceptable power level in the FFRPG, which is an unfortunate limitation of the system. "Acceptable" is more like a strong element, a weak element and a favoured weapon type.

Everything else was excellent in the extreme. Especially your very comprehensive equipment list, including what you've got on you and what you've got in storage. This is what I like to see.

Fix up that power level and you can rest pretty much assured that the gigantic stamp will be yours. Alas, for now, I have to refuse.

[Ssin'urn]

Damn, I had a bad feeling about that. I was really unsure...but, after so many days in the school thread, no one told me something was wrong...changed it. I hope I had not left a wrong reference somewhere.

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€

[Xian]

Ssin'urn: Bam!

APPROVED

[Kalandrin]

Name: Kalandrin Fre'ana Val'Beldrobbaen
Race: Ne'kalsaider
Age: 45
Sex: Female
Equipment: On person: Twin yatagans; dagger; flanged chain mace; battle axe; armour and shield or reinforced spidersilk clothing; one flask with water; portable weaving equipment; pendant with an expensive gem; pouch with 15 ada. In her nest: weaving equipment and sets of unprocessed, ready-to-be-used spidersilk; colour and hair dyes of various colours; simple and reinforced spidersilk clothes; minor medical equipment (bandages, strong alcohol for preventing infection and treating wounds); a few gems used to decorate clothing; 800 ada. [Clothing and armour is described in greater detail in the ‘Appearance’ section.]
Magic: Self-taught light sorcery.
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:[list]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 157 cm (5'2") and stretching out to an average of 225 cm (7'5"). 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 and potentially cause her troubles. Kalandrin chooses reinforced and convenient black-coloured spidersilk clothing when it comes to not wear armour, these clothing once being her most commonly seen outfits up to recently. Her hair is kept of considerable length, always found in hairstyles that do not interfere with her sight – something important for a warrior, after all.

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 and a couple of pouches with portable weaving equipment. Her clothing is always covering her entire torso and significant part of her spider cephalothorax and abdomen (including parts of her legs through the use of greaves), as well as her neck, with the colour always being that of her clan – shades of black. In addition, she is always found bearing a variant of the Beldrobbaen clan symbol right below her neck, consisting of a spider on her webs. The body of the Beldrobbaen 'spider' on the symbol is usually found represented by a nearly black gem worked on the clothes, rather than being woven, mainly meant for style, but to store mana as well if need be.

Due to a variety of encounters, Kalandrin has chosen to begin armouring herself with a ‘Clibanarii-style’ armour, similar to that worn by Byzantine Cataphracts. The armour’s undergarment consists of a reinforced spidersilk sleeved shirt, with the torso’s uppermost areas (between the chest and neck and the shoulders) having two layers for additional protection. The neck is guarded by a dual-layer spidersilk gorget, whereas a dual-layer sheet is fixed on the spider cephalothorax and abdomen that make up Kalandrin’s lower body. Above the ‘spidersilk layer’, Kalandrin wears a sleeveless haubergeon that protects her neck as well. Her lower body’s protection includes a fixed maille sheet over the previously mentioned spidersilk, despite the exoskeleton armouring it, for additional protection. The maille Kalandrin wears is “1-to-4â€

[Xian]

Kalandrin: This redux is quite happily approved by Xian.

Friday, June 2/06: The edits mentioned in Kal's post were pre-approved by the Registration Nazi, valid as of this date.

[Izz'la'mar]

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.

[Kalandrin]

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 worked in between of two layers of spidersilk 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 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.
• 3 July 2008, 02:02: Removed thickness references from armour.

[Xian]

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)

EDIT: I talked to Kern about it, and he points out that Sang'oro in chapter 12 is a drowussu/drowolath cross, and he's plenty alive and in the clan. The Kyorl'Solenurn never hunted half-drowussu/half-drowolath, so you best be steppin'. (by which I mean remove the references to this activity in your backgrounds)

[Kalandrin]

I have removed all references to drowussu/drowolath crossbreeds, and added an Edit history in the bottom of my post (if I have forgotten any, please let me know so I fix it). As mentioned there, all "half-" or "crossbreed" references are now including exclusively light elf-drow hybrids, assuming this is acceptable (after reading Rebirth). If it is not, let me know by PM or MSN and they too will be edited out.

[Izz'la'mar]

Me too, specified about it applying to light elf crosses.

[Adrian]

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€

[Xian]

Adrian: So here I'm having a lousy day, and then you have to come along and deny me the pleasure of railing on some poor soul for screwing things up. Yeah, you know what? You didn't capitalize the "D" in "Drowolath"- so refused!

*grumble*

What can I say, this is a perfect submission. A++, exceedingly well done. I really think I have a sense of who your character is and what she's about and what made her who she is, and that's all I ever ask for. With pleasure.

APPROVED

[Aurin]

Name: Saito Zotoshai Val’Beldrobbaen

Race: Drowolath

Age: 35

Equipment: A long Katana, with inlaid gem on the pommel; housed in a plain, hardened, black leather sheath. Also keeps several daggers on hand for tight situations- usually slipped in additional sheaths on his legs or belt, or in his boots when the situation calls for it. Generally also has a dirk with him as well, for use as a secondary weapon should the need arise. Usually keeps a small bit of coin on him at all times, just in case he needs it. Has a hooded black cloak for traveling, and when not on duty he usually just keeps to Spider-silk clothing. Otherwise, he keeps to a suit of black, also hardened leather armor, for mobility. Usually keeps a journal and pen with him at most times and places, so that he can quickly make notes of anything that catches his eye, and so that he can jot down any ideas that might strike him throughout the day. He also bears with him at all times a pendant with an obsidian gem in the center- a gift from his sister, Naer'silin. Of course bits of ada are usually on person in most situation.

Magic: Some basic sorcery, namely regarding darkness/shadow.

Beginning city: Chel'el'sussoloth

Clan: Val’Beldrobbaen

Background: Saito was born into the Zotoshai family, a sub-house of lesser nobility in the Val’Beldrobbaen clan. Two brothers had preceded him, as well as three sisters. His mother was a conniving, power-starved witch. She did everything she could to gain prestige, both within the clan and abroad. Even when the great tragedy struck Val’Beldrobbaen, in which so many of their children were lost or tainted, she merely saw it as an opportunity to make a rise in power. She figured with less competition in the clan, she could make large strides in the stature of her own house. She was wrong.

With one daughter dead due to the “great accidentâ€

[Xian]

Aurin: Let me get this straight.

"They beat and abused Saito every day," and "...called him weak, called him stupid and useless…said he’d never amount to a thing, and he would bring only further disgrace to the clan."

And suddenly he's trained in swordplay? I'm afraid this doesn't make the cut. You also never explain where you get your fancy katana, or why you chose it over the multitude of other weapons that are available to the drow race. I don't normally ask people where they get weapons, but I do like to know why people do what they do.

Your background isn't bad, but you do need to expand on your training a bit, mostly around your swordplay. Having your sister help to train up your shadow sorcery is just fine.

I don't like refusing submissions that aren't truly bad, so this really doesn't bring me any satisfaction. Until you detail how you came about gaining some proficiency with a sword (and you claim in your background that you do) I have to say no. Fortunately for you, this can probably be fixed in just a few minutes.