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"Azra Hezkilliz Bzomida Frizzii Kzzh"
Race: Tiefling - Fiendflayer
Gender: Female
Class/Level: Magus/11th Level
Description:
Ziiza is 96 cycles old, is 5'9", 155lbs, has black hair and dark-red smoldering eyes. She walks with a confident, elongated stride. She has powerful legs which terminate with hard and deadly hooves. Her skin has an other worldly reddish hue and is smooth though covered with scales. She exudes a scent that smells a bit like two volcanic rocks rubbed together... with a hint of flaming sulfur.
She has spiraling grey-white, ram-like horns.
She fights with a perfectly balanced trident, tipped with adamantine dragon claws and slashes with her scorpion whip.
She has a Black Mithril breast plate.
She has been known to cut into her own flesh, usually on the arms, in a brutal, fiendish ritual. She taps into a dark magic and is able to call forth a weapon of choice. It swirls like flaming blood and gives off a subtle smoke which lingers...
She has spiraling grey-white, ram-like horns.
She fights with a perfectly balanced trident, tipped with adamantine dragon claws and slashes with her scorpion whip.
She has a Black Mithril breast plate.
She has been known to cut into her own flesh, usually on the arms, in a brutal, fiendish ritual. She taps into a dark magic and is able to call forth a weapon of choice. It swirls like flaming blood and gives off a subtle smoke which lingers...
Background:
Ziiza has lived many years being scorned, feared, fought, ridiculed, and attacked ... because of others stupidity and ignorance. She is an Outsider.
Z tends to be outspoken, can be quite caustic or surprisingly soothing, can be calm and calculated in the midst of utter chaos, or can explode in a brutal, and fiendish display infernal fury. She is a student of the Void and sees Magic, Gods and Religion as aspects of the dream, a string of connected notes in an ongoing life-song. The sound of a lover's voice or the last exhalation of a victim's wail... both flames ignited and fleeting whisps, dancing on an Eternal Sea of Silence.
She shares pleasure where she can, enjoys her body and it's abilities. She trains her mind and taps into the Magic that flows in the dream. She lives the duality and allows herself to become immersed in it, but she always comes back to the Void.
If she chooses to, Z can carry a grudge until she finally quenches her thirst for revenge, or just as easily, let the most grievous affront to her personal identity simply and easily go. She has taken many beatings; physically, emotionally, intellectually, spiritually.... She is no stranger to fleeting pleasures and pains of this so-called "reality."
Like a flame, she is a catalyst. More often than not, people become shaken out of their comfort zone by her choice to not bow to what she calls an "ignorant and fearful worship of propriety."
She is frighteningly agile; fast and dexterous, and more intelligent than most. She is cunning and fierce in battle. Sometimes she hangs back and waits until her battle-sense kicks in; like a flame of inspiration; sometimes it is a nightmare of fire and chaos and sometimes it is as subtle as a last breath. She will use any tactic she deems necessary.
She does not take betrayal well and has been known to destroy with great malice, anyone who unwisely fux with her.
She has lived a long life, compared to some, and can be patient, will plan and act in her own time.
A tiny ember can destroy a whole forest.
Ziiza is just as quick to intimidate with fear as to inspire with a spirit of cooperation.
She bears long, self-inflicted scars which run the entire length of her forearms. Both scars are triple-crossed.
Her weapons of choice... The Trident and the Whip.
The Trident is her main weapon; perfectly balanced and tipped with dragon's claws. Adamantine. Her whip, a scorpion whip, tears at the flesh of her opponent or she practices at a simple disarming... of their weapon, that is.
She is a Fiendflayer, transforming her own fiend-blood into a magical weapon.....
Her Mother, Kazii Azaal was born a Tiefling. She had spent many years seeking out her lineage and within this quest she found an affinity with a dark, half-elven magus, Kilgar. At first they seemed to hate each other. But gradually, they learned to depend on each other. Both exchanged rolls of student and teacher, savior and saved and they found they had created a symbiotic bond...which gradually turned into more.
Kazii's jealous demonic forefather (name purposefully withheld) utterly destroyed her Magus partner....
The demon was sickly jealous and wanted Kazii for himself... in every way. Kilgar gave his life saving Kazii, his beloved.
Her life is dedicated to avenging the death of her lover.
Perversely, the demon taunts her, allowing her to get closer...then he disappears.
Ziiza's Father, Jedda, was a young human cleric who lost his grace. He succumbed to the dark, blood-sex ritual temptations of Kazii.
When Kazii was in her late 40s, she would derive great joy in tempting the men of the cloth. She enjoyed the sport. She had been hunted many times as a young tiefling, usually by some initiates on a "god-given" quest... She was frighteningly beautiful, seductive and powerful. She was temptation...lust mixed with fear... darkness and pleasure.... She would enter their rooms at night and whisper sweet dreams in their ears.... rousing them... she would temp them in the darkness... then she would pin them down, tying them to their beds.... carving wounds of dark magic symbols on their chests and foreheads. She would haunt their dreams....
Occasionally, she would disguise herself as a sister or nun... enter the church finding a lonely priest.....
Ziiza was conceived on a blood-moon upon the desecrated Holy Altar. The Father, baptized with Kazii's Fiendish blood, gave into his dark desires.... He was torn between two selves...
After his transgressions, he attempted to regain his good-standing by summoning demons and destroying them...but no amount of projection could eradicate the guilt and shame which festered within him. He became slowly and deeply fascinated with the rituals of darkness, until it consumed him. He took communion by partaking in blood-sex rituals, gladly fulfilled by Kazii.... He could not resist.... Unable to reconcile the ever-widening chasm within himself, he spiraled into madness.
He now wanders the dark regions, lost to insanity.
Ziiza Azaal
Ziiza has lived many years being scorned, feared, fought, ridiculed, and attacked ... because of others stupidity and ignorance. She is an Outsider.
Z tends to be outspoken, can be quite caustic or surprisingly soothing, can be calm and calculated in the midst of utter chaos, or can explode in a brutal, and fiendish display infernal fury. She is a student of the Void and sees Magic, Gods and Religion as aspects of the dream, a string of connected notes in an ongoing life-song. The sound of a lover's voice or the last exhalation of a victim's wail... both flames ignited and fleeting whisps, dancing on an Eternal Sea of Silence.
She shares pleasure where she can, enjoys her body and it's abilities. She trains her mind and taps into the Magic that flows in the dream. She lives the duality and allows herself to become immersed in it, but she always comes back to the Void.
If she chooses to, Z can carry a grudge until she finally quenches her thirst for revenge, or just as easily, let the most grievous affront to her personal identity simply and easily go. She has taken many beatings; physically, emotionally, intellectually, spiritually.... She is no stranger to fleeting pleasures and pains of this so-called "reality."
Like a flame, she is a catalyst. More often than not, people become shaken out of their comfort zone by her choice to not bow to what she calls an "ignorant and fearful worship of propriety."
She is frighteningly agile; fast and dexterous, and more intelligent than most. She is cunning and fierce in battle. Sometimes she hangs back and waits until her battle-sense kicks in; like a flame of inspiration; sometimes it is a nightmare of fire and chaos and sometimes it is as subtle as a last breath. She will use any tactic she deems necessary.
She does not take betrayal well and has been known to destroy with great malice, anyone who unwisely fux with her.
She has lived a long life, compared to some, and can be patient, will plan and act in her own time.
A tiny ember can destroy a whole forest.
Ziiza is just as quick to intimidate with fear as to inspire with a spirit of cooperation.
She bears long, self-inflicted scars which run the entire length of her forearms. Both scars are triple-crossed.
Her weapons of choice... The Trident and the Whip.
The Trident is her main weapon; perfectly balanced and tipped with dragon's claws. Adamantine. Her whip, a scorpion whip, tears at the flesh of her opponent or she practices at a simple disarming... of their weapon, that is.
She is a Fiendflayer, transforming her own fiend-blood into a magical weapon.....
FAMILY HISTORY
Her Mother, Kazii Azaal was born a Tiefling. She had spent many years seeking out her lineage and within this quest she found an affinity with a dark, half-elven magus, Kilgar. At first they seemed to hate each other. But gradually, they learned to depend on each other. Both exchanged rolls of student and teacher, savior and saved and they found they had created a symbiotic bond...which gradually turned into more.
Kazii's jealous demonic forefather (name purposefully withheld) utterly destroyed her Magus partner....
The demon was sickly jealous and wanted Kazii for himself... in every way. Kilgar gave his life saving Kazii, his beloved.
Her life is dedicated to avenging the death of her lover.
Perversely, the demon taunts her, allowing her to get closer...then he disappears.
Ziiza's Father, Jedda, was a young human cleric who lost his grace. He succumbed to the dark, blood-sex ritual temptations of Kazii.
When Kazii was in her late 40s, she would derive great joy in tempting the men of the cloth. She enjoyed the sport. She had been hunted many times as a young tiefling, usually by some initiates on a "god-given" quest... She was frighteningly beautiful, seductive and powerful. She was temptation...lust mixed with fear... darkness and pleasure.... She would enter their rooms at night and whisper sweet dreams in their ears.... rousing them... she would temp them in the darkness... then she would pin them down, tying them to their beds.... carving wounds of dark magic symbols on their chests and foreheads. She would haunt their dreams....
Occasionally, she would disguise herself as a sister or nun... enter the church finding a lonely priest.....
Ziiza was conceived on a blood-moon upon the desecrated Holy Altar. The Father, baptized with Kazii's Fiendish blood, gave into his dark desires.... He was torn between two selves...
After his transgressions, he attempted to regain his good-standing by summoning demons and destroying them...but no amount of projection could eradicate the guilt and shame which festered within him. He became slowly and deeply fascinated with the rituals of darkness, until it consumed him. He took communion by partaking in blood-sex rituals, gladly fulfilled by Kazii.... He could not resist.... Unable to reconcile the ever-widening chasm within himself, he spiraled into madness.
He now wanders the dark regions, lost to insanity.
Details:
Ziiza seemed to be fairly normal half-elven girl who exhibited magical aptitude. She made friends here an there but most were not long-term relationships as she was always on the move with her Mother, Kaazii. It wasn't until growing into sexual maturity that her fiendish blood transformed her body into what she is now. At first, her life was incredibly difficult. She felt consumed with dark dreams and dark thoughts. She would react with vicious and excessive violence and felt waves of overwhelming lust. She would burn inside and felt like her blood was boiling. She felt like something was taking her over... like she was being consumed from within.
Her Mother tried to help her but Ziiza fought her. Kaazi told Z about the blood-rituals that would help ease her transformation, but Z wanted nothing to do with it. She fought desperately to hold onto her old life, what little was left of it. Z hated her Mother for her fiendish blood and for passing this curse on to her. She ran away because she hated her Mother, but mostly, she ran because she loved her. Ziiza was afraid of the powerful emotions that ran through her, vicious hatred that she could not control and a desire to lash out at her Mother. For awhile she tried to channel this chaotic energy into sexual expression... but it was a fleeting fix.
She began to search out information, anything she could find on the transformations. She broke into libraries reading all she could on Demons and Planes and Magic. She was trying to understand what she might become. Once in a while, she would find some info on Tieflings and would attempt to cast magic rituals on her own. She began to open doors, to channel the energy... she was frightened but thrilled as well.
She opened some doors that should have remained closed.
Live and learn.
She slowly was accepting her new identity. She felt the two selves who once battled within, begin to merge. She embraced the two sides into one. Both remained yet... they were brought together as One. She was that One. Late at night when her blood boiled, she would find seek out bodies of water... she would sit half submerged staring out. She would watch the ripples and the stars reflected... she would feel the cool water rising up... she began to imagine the water filling her veins....while she calmed her violent thoughts. She found peace in this calm.
She found the Void.
Her Mother tried to help her but Ziiza fought her. Kaazi told Z about the blood-rituals that would help ease her transformation, but Z wanted nothing to do with it. She fought desperately to hold onto her old life, what little was left of it. Z hated her Mother for her fiendish blood and for passing this curse on to her. She ran away because she hated her Mother, but mostly, she ran because she loved her. Ziiza was afraid of the powerful emotions that ran through her, vicious hatred that she could not control and a desire to lash out at her Mother. For awhile she tried to channel this chaotic energy into sexual expression... but it was a fleeting fix.
She began to search out information, anything she could find on the transformations. She broke into libraries reading all she could on Demons and Planes and Magic. She was trying to understand what she might become. Once in a while, she would find some info on Tieflings and would attempt to cast magic rituals on her own. She began to open doors, to channel the energy... she was frightened but thrilled as well.
She opened some doors that should have remained closed.
Live and learn.
She slowly was accepting her new identity. She felt the two selves who once battled within, begin to merge. She embraced the two sides into one. Both remained yet... they were brought together as One. She was that One. Late at night when her blood boiled, she would find seek out bodies of water... she would sit half submerged staring out. She would watch the ripples and the stars reflected... she would feel the cool water rising up... she began to imagine the water filling her veins....while she calmed her violent thoughts. She found peace in this calm.
She found the Void.
"If I have to tighten this strap one more time I'll just fight naked"
Race: Drow
Gender: Female
Role: Striker
Class: Hybrid Rogue/Warlock
Description:
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.
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.
Background:
Childhood
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 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...
Details:
Name
Zilvyl - The Forgotten one
Hun'urdren - The Sisterhood of the Darkness
Personality
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.
Zilvyl - The Forgotten one
Hun'urdren - The Sisterhood of the Darkness
Personality
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.
"Why stand like an oak tree in the face of adversity when you could be a reed, weather the difficulty, and snap back into the face of the one who dealt you that card."
Race: Undine
Gender: Male
Role: Other
Class/Level: Monk/8
Description:
Sea-green eyes and a coal black beard/moustache, with crew-cut hair. Zirfan is about 5' 10" with heavily calloused knuckles from a life dedicated to the art of making one's body into a weapon of justice and freedom. He wears a loose tunic and baggy, nonrestrictive pants. This gives him somewhat of a vagabond appearance at times, but keeps his movements from being impeded.
Background:
Raised in a monastery (not much more than a hostel) of Dorumous since his undine mother had died in childbirth after escaping her master. Zirfan never knew her name nor the name of the master whom she served. He doesn't know who his father is and from time to time this gives him pause. However, he has learned to maximize the relationships he has and then let them go when the time is right. This is due mostly to the fact that his many teachers were travelers that stopped to train him for a few weeks, perhaps even let him accompany them on a few missions before heading out on their own again.
"burn it all"
Race: Half-elf
Gender: Male
Role: Striker
Class/Level: sorcerer/4
Background:
born in outsea, zirul live a simple life with his parents going up. his father die when he was 15, and his mother became ill some years later, and past away when he was 18. Zirul made his living by tutoring the young as his elf mother did. He study magic texts left by his human father. and grow in to fairly decent sorcerer.
"Burn it all"
Race: Half-Elf
Gender: Male
Role: Striker
Class/Level: Wizard/14
