Post by tom on Jul 22, 2013 18:33:24 GMT
Summary
Level 1 Drow Monk
Shadow doesn't follow any particular deity, having lost faith in the gods early in his life. He is lawful neutral, living by his own personal code of ethics. He has forsworn killing and struggles daily to temper the darkness in his soul. Physically, Shadow has charcoal colored skin and silver hair cropped short, with grey eyes and almost invisible pupils.
Character Sheet
docs.google.com/file/d/0BzGrEYB-_pE9REpVaVVEVmFoNmc/edit?usp=sharing
Background
Beneath the ancient Elven capital city of Celwynvian lies a cavernous undercity held by the Drow, given the same name as the city it rests below. It is here that Orgollzt was born to House Rilynndar, one of the ruling noble houses in Celwynvian. He was born the son of the house matriarch and one of her many suitors, the details of his sire unimportant. Despite his heritage, he was an immediate disappointment due to his gender.
Orgollzt began childhood the same way most Drow boys did in House Rilynndar, with no advantages. Thrown in with the male offspring of the higher ranking Drow nobles and generals, he was brought up as a warrior and killer. He and the others were shown no quarter, expected to master a variety of poisons, sneaking, thievery, and assassination. Their darkest selves were encouraged to manifest through a cycle of vicious and bloody violence and manipulation.
This “survival of the fittest” method of training, utilized to produce bloodthirsty and unrelenting assassins, continued on for Orgollzt until strange things started to happen during his fights. At 64 years old, the young Drow started to show signs of the noble blood. This power was almost always found in Drow females and allowed them to rule most of the major houses. For a boy to exhibit the same power was unheard of, and he was immediately brought to the matriarch’s attention.
House Rilynndar’s matriarch is a cruel and ambitious Drow, her own interests her highest priority. Seeing the potential for Orgollzt to disrupt the entire nature of House Rilynndar’s society, she ordered him to be executed, a sacrifice to their patron demon lord.
The day of his sacrifice, Orgollzt found himself with his hands and knees tied together, a gag in his mouth and a hood thrown over his head. He did not know what was happening, but he heard screaming and the sound of steel on steel. A blow struck him across his head, and the world faded away. . .
When he awoke, he was still tied but the hood had been removed. Night had fallen, and he was shocked to find that he was not on solid ground at all - he was in a boat! All around him were grisly looking humans, mostly men. Orgollzt recognized the group as the latest batch of slave traders dealing with the Drow of another house in Celywnvian.
The slave traders were taking him to Riddleport, a city renowned for crime, via the Varisian Gulf. He was saved from the fate of death, sacrificed to a terror from the Abyss, only to be sold into slavery and likely suffer a fate worse than death. However, as luck would have it, the ship never reached Riddleport. A storm surged as they entered the gulf and winds surged to crash the slaving ship into the seaside cliffs of the Fogscar Mountains, shattering the wood and throwing most of the crew, including the Drow noble, into the sea.
Several days later, Orgollzt woke. He felt weak and starving, the taste of salt still on his lips. He was surprised to find that he was no longer tied up, and if he were stronger, he would have been free to jump to his feet. As it was, he wasn’t strong enough to even sit up yet. He barely managed to open his eyes.
His vision was greeted by a kindly old man, human from what Orgollzt could see in his weakened state. This was Master Orlam, the man who had saved Orgollzt from the sea and nursed him back to life.
Thus began Orgollzt’s second life. Master Orlam took him in, treated him with kindness, and taught him the ways of the gentle warrior. Seeking to shed his former life and the darkness that came with it, Orgollzt never told Master Orlam his true identity. With a kindly chuckle, Master Orlam simply began to call him Shadow, because the Drow boy would always follow in Master Orlam’s footsteps, silent and still as a shadow.
For years, this was Shadow’s life. Every day he would train to master the techniques that Master Orlam would show him, his eyes adjusting to the light of the surface world. Every evening, he would listen and meditate on Master Orlam’s words, how every living being had a place in the world, that all life is precious, and life must be defended at all costs. It became apparent to Shadow that his master was not human, or at least not any human that he knew about; the man never seemed to age.
One day, when Shadow was close to 105 years old (nearing the Drow point of adulthood), he set off to a nearby stream to fish for he and his master’s evening meals. Upon his return, the simple encampment they lived in had been wrecked. There were scorch marks everywhere, all of their furniture and belongings scattered and broken. With a cry, Shadow dove into the camp to find his master.
He found a mutilated old body, withered, looking older and more gruesome than Master Orlam had any right to be. Unable to comprehend his loss, rage surged through Shadow and he caught sight of tracks leading away from the camp. The bandits hadn’t even bothered to hide their tracks. Shadow took off after them.
What followed doesn’t require repeating in detail. Shadow found the bandits’ camp, and exacted his revenge in a bloodlust unlike anything he had ever felt before. Succumbing to his innermost rage and hurt, Shadow killed every bandit in the camp with his bare hands. Not only the bandits, but also the women, the children, and the camp followers that were accompanying them. He murdered more people than could have possibly raided Master Orlam’s camp.
It was a full day before Shadow snapped out of it. Covered in blood, none his, Shadow was horrified by what he had done. He only remembered bits and pieces, but the most scarring memory was of the little girl clutching her stuffed bird in front of her. The toy did nothing to stop him.
Now, close to twenty years later, Shadow roams the lands as penance. Still shamed and awed by the rage within him, he has set out on a mission to rid himself of the darkness of his past.
Level 1 Drow Monk
Shadow doesn't follow any particular deity, having lost faith in the gods early in his life. He is lawful neutral, living by his own personal code of ethics. He has forsworn killing and struggles daily to temper the darkness in his soul. Physically, Shadow has charcoal colored skin and silver hair cropped short, with grey eyes and almost invisible pupils.
Character Sheet
docs.google.com/file/d/0BzGrEYB-_pE9REpVaVVEVmFoNmc/edit?usp=sharing
Background
Beneath the ancient Elven capital city of Celwynvian lies a cavernous undercity held by the Drow, given the same name as the city it rests below. It is here that Orgollzt was born to House Rilynndar, one of the ruling noble houses in Celwynvian. He was born the son of the house matriarch and one of her many suitors, the details of his sire unimportant. Despite his heritage, he was an immediate disappointment due to his gender.
Orgollzt began childhood the same way most Drow boys did in House Rilynndar, with no advantages. Thrown in with the male offspring of the higher ranking Drow nobles and generals, he was brought up as a warrior and killer. He and the others were shown no quarter, expected to master a variety of poisons, sneaking, thievery, and assassination. Their darkest selves were encouraged to manifest through a cycle of vicious and bloody violence and manipulation.
This “survival of the fittest” method of training, utilized to produce bloodthirsty and unrelenting assassins, continued on for Orgollzt until strange things started to happen during his fights. At 64 years old, the young Drow started to show signs of the noble blood. This power was almost always found in Drow females and allowed them to rule most of the major houses. For a boy to exhibit the same power was unheard of, and he was immediately brought to the matriarch’s attention.
House Rilynndar’s matriarch is a cruel and ambitious Drow, her own interests her highest priority. Seeing the potential for Orgollzt to disrupt the entire nature of House Rilynndar’s society, she ordered him to be executed, a sacrifice to their patron demon lord.
The day of his sacrifice, Orgollzt found himself with his hands and knees tied together, a gag in his mouth and a hood thrown over his head. He did not know what was happening, but he heard screaming and the sound of steel on steel. A blow struck him across his head, and the world faded away. . .
When he awoke, he was still tied but the hood had been removed. Night had fallen, and he was shocked to find that he was not on solid ground at all - he was in a boat! All around him were grisly looking humans, mostly men. Orgollzt recognized the group as the latest batch of slave traders dealing with the Drow of another house in Celywnvian.
The slave traders were taking him to Riddleport, a city renowned for crime, via the Varisian Gulf. He was saved from the fate of death, sacrificed to a terror from the Abyss, only to be sold into slavery and likely suffer a fate worse than death. However, as luck would have it, the ship never reached Riddleport. A storm surged as they entered the gulf and winds surged to crash the slaving ship into the seaside cliffs of the Fogscar Mountains, shattering the wood and throwing most of the crew, including the Drow noble, into the sea.
Several days later, Orgollzt woke. He felt weak and starving, the taste of salt still on his lips. He was surprised to find that he was no longer tied up, and if he were stronger, he would have been free to jump to his feet. As it was, he wasn’t strong enough to even sit up yet. He barely managed to open his eyes.
His vision was greeted by a kindly old man, human from what Orgollzt could see in his weakened state. This was Master Orlam, the man who had saved Orgollzt from the sea and nursed him back to life.
Thus began Orgollzt’s second life. Master Orlam took him in, treated him with kindness, and taught him the ways of the gentle warrior. Seeking to shed his former life and the darkness that came with it, Orgollzt never told Master Orlam his true identity. With a kindly chuckle, Master Orlam simply began to call him Shadow, because the Drow boy would always follow in Master Orlam’s footsteps, silent and still as a shadow.
For years, this was Shadow’s life. Every day he would train to master the techniques that Master Orlam would show him, his eyes adjusting to the light of the surface world. Every evening, he would listen and meditate on Master Orlam’s words, how every living being had a place in the world, that all life is precious, and life must be defended at all costs. It became apparent to Shadow that his master was not human, or at least not any human that he knew about; the man never seemed to age.
One day, when Shadow was close to 105 years old (nearing the Drow point of adulthood), he set off to a nearby stream to fish for he and his master’s evening meals. Upon his return, the simple encampment they lived in had been wrecked. There were scorch marks everywhere, all of their furniture and belongings scattered and broken. With a cry, Shadow dove into the camp to find his master.
He found a mutilated old body, withered, looking older and more gruesome than Master Orlam had any right to be. Unable to comprehend his loss, rage surged through Shadow and he caught sight of tracks leading away from the camp. The bandits hadn’t even bothered to hide their tracks. Shadow took off after them.
What followed doesn’t require repeating in detail. Shadow found the bandits’ camp, and exacted his revenge in a bloodlust unlike anything he had ever felt before. Succumbing to his innermost rage and hurt, Shadow killed every bandit in the camp with his bare hands. Not only the bandits, but also the women, the children, and the camp followers that were accompanying them. He murdered more people than could have possibly raided Master Orlam’s camp.
It was a full day before Shadow snapped out of it. Covered in blood, none his, Shadow was horrified by what he had done. He only remembered bits and pieces, but the most scarring memory was of the little girl clutching her stuffed bird in front of her. The toy did nothing to stop him.
Now, close to twenty years later, Shadow roams the lands as penance. Still shamed and awed by the rage within him, he has set out on a mission to rid himself of the darkness of his past.