Zilvyl Hun'urdren

"If I have to tighten this strap one more time I'll just fight naked"
User: Daniele
Campaign: Shadows of Galnarn
Race: Drow
Gender: Female
Role: Striker
Class: Hybrid Rogue/Warlock
Zilvyl is a 16 year-old Drow female with bright lavender eyes. Her white hair is parted into two short, thick braids.

She is petite and frail-looking, even for her age, but she moves with a hypnotic, cat-like grace. She has the typical gentle, pleasing features of her kind, but has no understanding of the concept of looking pretty. She carries alternatively a look of concentration and quiet fury, and only rarely smiles.

She is often seen wearing a skin-tight black leather armor, skulking in dark corners, trying not to be noticed and focusing on the task at hand, usually ignoring what's going on around her.
Zilvyl doesn't know her childhood name, or exactly where she is from. Of her early years she only remembers fragments of a normal childhood: other Drow, the underground (probably the Underdark) but mostly being on the surface with a caravan of traders, her family. Her first complete memory she believes is from when she was four: her caravan is attacked by bandits, her family executed in front of her, and her violent capture. She doesn't know if anyone else survived, as she was caged and transported by herself in dark crates, fed only scraps, for what seemed many months.

She eventually ended up in Brinnwald; her capturers hadn't thought this through and did not know what to do with a Drow; her race was too feared and conspicuous to make slaves. They placed her in one of their safe houses and let an old lady take care of her; she was harsh at first, but eventually became more caring. One night her cell was left unlocked; unsure what to do, but still possessed by nightmares and anger from the earlier trauma, she took a knife and murdered the sleeping old woman. The murder of the only person that was kind to her left her in a state of trauma; she was eventually found next to the corpse, covered in blood. The bandits beat her unconscious and made a story on how she had infiltrated their camp and attacked them, and that she was not a child, but a demon. Racial prejudice and some coins made sure no investigation took place, and she was summarily thrown in a large underground prison without any record of the fact.

Being a child, she was relegated to a dirty corner of the prison with other criminal youth. Too traumatized to speak, and as the only Drow the others had ever seen, she was tormented constantly. Soon, her primal urges took over and she took to skulking in the dark, stealing and eventually murdering her tormentors. She was eventually found and captured by the only other Drow prisoner, Shyntyrr'driira Hun'urdren; after many months of forced captivity she managed to pull Zilvyl out of her feral state and took her as her own.

The Hun'urdren years
At about 9 years of age, after years of stealing and murdering in the prison, the two Drow were instrumental in a plan to kill the warden and free the other prisoners. She escaped with Shyntyrr'driira and they travelled to the Jagged Mountains until they reached an ancient ruin. This was the home of the Hun'urdren, a cult-like group of surface-dwelling female Drow; the Hun'urdren trained young Drow females to be formidable thieves and assassins, and as adults they were loyal agents that furthered the group's goals. She heard that they were descendants of a group that used to rule a nearby city called Fallcrest, and they were scheming to come back to power.

Zilvyl was trained there for six years and showed remarkable talent, even though she was physically smaller and weaker than most other students; brash and reckless, but with impeccable martial from, she became the darling of the teachers and the loved and feared role model of other students. But even this was not meant to last. As she turned 15, she heard rumors that the leadership of the Hun'urdren was actually a cabal of male Drow that controlled the older female members in secret from the lower levels, observing them from behind secret screens.

She soon found the rumors to be true when one of the male leaders took a fancy to her, and one day, overtaken by lust, tried to force himself on her. Even though she was terrified and overpowered, she led the attacker to believe she was a willing victim, and as he lowered his guard she was able to slit his throat with her hidden dagger. She had not murdered for many years, and never one of her own kind. Terrified and covered in blood, she escaped the complex into the woods. It was high in the mountains, in the winter, and she was not prepared to travel in the snow or face the beasts of the wild.

She did not get vary far before getting lost and exhausted, and she fell down a ravine, breaking her leg. She laid there as the darkness fell, slowly succumbing to the cold, and realized that this was the end of her short, miserable life. She was about to give up, but a spirit of the Feywild appeared to her, appearing a gale of snow, and proposed to save her life in exchange for a pact of blood. Even while knowing that she should accept her fate, she was too young and scared to die, and accepted the deal. The spirit mended her body and showed her the way back in return for a promise to assist it in the future.

She did not expect anything good at the compound, but she had nowhere else to go. It turns out that Shyntyrr'driira had found the body, understood what happened, and managed to muck with the evidence enough that Zilvyl was not suspected. Only a few of the elders knew that there was even a murder, but the unsolved mystery cast a dark shadow over the group.

For another year Zilvyl kept training and started to grasp the powers that her pact had given her; she could only practice rarely and in secret, and started to grow increasingly frustrated. One day Shyntyrr'driira discovered her practicing her arcane powers, and everything unraveled; her mentor was horrified at what she had done, and threatened to reveal that she had murdered the male elder if she did not renounce her pact. Zilvyl became enraged and found herself cursing Shyntyrr'driira with the Dark Dream; her mentor reeled in pain and fell down a stairwell, breaking her neck. Having again murdered the only person she cared for, Zilvyl was again traumatized, and fell into a destructive rage. She's not sure exactly what happened after that.

A new beginning
She woke up in a patch of red snow, grasping her dagger, a few steps from what was left of the compound. She had been wounded, but someone had bandaged her and covered her with a thick bear skin. The ruins had all burned down, and she could find no traces of life, only charred corpses. Finding no path or other footsteps, she wrapper herself in the bear skin and started walking in the forest, in a dream-like daze.

She soon fell down, lost and exhausted. In her dreams the Fey Spirit came to her, and she woke up realizing that the Spirit had possessed in her rage and gave her led her to kill and destroy, and it was very proud of this. In exchange, he now wanted her to follow a path he had burned in her mind to chase down a neofite Warlock that did not respect the obligations of his pact, and slay him. If she did not do this, the Spirit would have no qualms in letting her die on this mountain.

Fortunately the winter was waning, and the ruin the Warlock inhabited was not too far away. She managed to infiltrate his lair in the night, and surprised him with a sneaky opening move. While he was more experienced that she was, he was at a great disadvantage in close quarters. She used her Cloud of Darkness to further confuse him, and he was dead before he could really fight back. The ruin was seriously creepy and she wanted to leave as soon as possible, but first she was able to salvage a leather armor, weapons, and some coins and supplies. She also read some of his notes and realized she could use a rod to channel her arcane power, so she took one of those too.

Among the notes was also a rough map to a town in a valley a few days away; even prepared for this journey, she barely survived against the cold and starvation, but she eventually came to the town (she found later it was called Three Sorrows), and settled in one of the many ruined buildings that surrounded it, at a safe distance. Not knowing how to hunt, however, it did not take her very long to run out of supplies; this gave her the courage to approach the tavern and look harmless. It apparently worked, as the owners took pity on her and allowed her to clean the place in exchange for food, just as long as she kept to the shadows and didn't bother the guests, especially when they were adventurers coming to spend coins...
Zilvyl - The Forgotten one
Hun'urdren - The Sisterhood of the Darkness

Just shy of a loner, but always looking for a mentor, Zilvyl is not used to socializing and pleasantries in general. Trust and friendship have been rare in her life compared to competition and betrayal, and even the good memories ended in tragedy. While she's pretty good natured (for a Drow) her experience made her quite skeptical and misanthropic. All the males she met are from her childhood, and nearly all tried to harm her; her only male adult interaction was an attempted rape; so understandably she's weary of males and not confortable with sexuality.

What she lacks in social graces she makes up in natural charm, however. When dealing with someone she doesn't think will stab her in the back, especially women, she often forgets her better judgment and becomes overly trusting, always looking for inspiration and parental figures. Most people seem more than willing to be charmed by her, but she is a fierce, temperamental, and demanding disciple, and few are able to keep her attention for very long.

Having lived a sheltered life in prisons or receiving martial training, she knows very little about the world and has had hardly any formal education. All the Drow she has known were renegades, so she has a very limited and distorted view of her kind. Curious and inquisitive, she often gets lost observing something she has never seen before, but she never had the chance to master anything complex outside of fighting.

When dealing with a challenge or danger, she has trouble planning ahead and usually loses her temper and her composure (usually in that order). Fortunately her years of training and practice compensate for her lack of cool-headedness and tactics with superb finesse and physical form when she's in a life-threatening situation. In the past she has been lucky enough to have someone responsible around to get her out of her binds, but she's not sure about that anymore.

She is very new to the whole Warlock thing, and while she has great potential, she doesn't quite know what to do with her power and she hasn't quite put together how her martial and arcane skills can work cohesively. She doesn't think there is anyone left alive that even knows about her power; this lack of mentoring and knowledge terrifies her.

She is somewhat obsessed with the fit of her armor and the weight distribution of her equipment, and spends inordinate amounts of time every day tweaking hoops, adjusting straps, and removing as much excess material as she can. She ultimately becomes dissatisfied and frustrated and her armors end up falling apart under the weight of her attentions, but overall her focus seems to pay off in terms of performance in the field.
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