It's a warm summer's day in the market, and you've taken for a stroll. Perhaps you'll buy a piece of fish, maybe some ale to go with. Didn't your pretty wife need cloth for her sewing? So many things to think about. Hey, what's that red blur? Out of the corner of your eye you notice a fleeting figure, moving between the stalls and the crowd. At first the only thing you gain from studying this thing is the colour red, but as you study closer, more details are visible. She wears billowy red robes, presumably full of pockets. On her head is an extravagant and rather large red brimmed pointy hat. It's radius approaches near on a half a foot, and a matching red veil is drawn up at the moment, revealing the wearers face. Behind all the scarlet silk is the face of a drow. Sporting chiseled, angular features as are common among elven-kind, this one is distinguished by its eyes. Not the colour, their green as all drow eyes are in daylight. But the attitude. They reflect an almost malicious innocence, along with the playful gayety of a kitten. She wears a belt of solid red enamel, from which several red leather pouches hang. Also hanging from her belt is a silk wrapped dagger. The sheath itself is almost a work of art, interwoven silk of many colours to produce a bond strong enough not to be severed by the blades razor edge. In stark contrast, he feet are adorned by a pair of very simple looking shoes.
Biography:-Early Life
Spoiler:
"Don't spill the fucking wine you idiot!” the clan matriarch lashed out at the manservant, striking him violently across the face. The man gave a groan, muttering his apologies and scuttering off for more wine. The drowess prowled forwards, moving through the dim under-city manse. Her large pregnant abdomen swelled out into her black woolen birthing gown. She pushed the doors inwards, glaring towards the mid-wife and the healer. “Let's get this over with, and hope it's not stillborn.” she shoots a menacing glance towards the healer, positioning herself atop a soft bed of silk and down. The manservant scuttled into the room, bearing a decanter of wine. The drow woman glared at him an a menacing fashion, taking the decanter. She slogged back the wine, setting it aside. Waving her hand towards the healer “Start it...” the healer nods nervously, wiping sweat from his face. He approaches the woman, beginning to weave an incantation.
And it was for several hours more. As the healer began o weave, the woman began to experience contractions. Eventually she shrieked at him to leave her, sending him out with the wine. The healer quickly departed, casting a glance towards the females mate, who waited anxiously outside the doorway. He flashed a quick smile, scurrying off. The male drow leaned against the heavy ash doors, sighing to himself. This wasn't the first youngling he had given the woman, but it never really got easier. Especially this time, with two potential males in her womb. After the last male was stillborn, he was very rightly anxious about these ones. A bout of agonizing screams emitted from the birthing room, followed by the softer coos and hushes of the mid-wife as she tried to ease out the infants. Another groan, the matriarch clenching blood stained covers intensely. The first child was struggled out. The mid-wife made no comment, severing the umbilical cord and handing the child to one of her underling for care. As the woman completed her birth process, expelling the other child, along with the placenta, the mid-wife smiles lifting the second one. “A girl! Your efforts were not a waste, mistress.” A profound look of relief flooded the matriarch's face, weather from the lifted strain of birthing, or the gender of the child was unclear.
A few years passed, although no seasons changed to mark them. No frost, no bloom, no shortening of the days. It was always dusk within the underground, illuminated by a cacophony of various lanterns, candles, and fires. The twins, Vorn and Catilyn respectively, had little contact for the first four years of their existence. T'was not until they were of an age to begin schooling that they had the opportunity to spend any time together. As a male, Vorn was relegated to be an outsider of drow politics. His sister on the other hand, was not so fortunate. Even as the second oldest female in the family, she was expected to reach a certain standard of behavior so that she might be successful later in her long life. T'was not to be, that much was apparent. From even a young age, Catilyn displayed certain eccentricities and oddities that made her an embarrassment to the family. Eventually her mother's relief turned to annoyance, then to disgust.
Willful, defiant, eccentric. She would constantly disobey her handmaids and instructors, and remained full of vigor and gusto in spite of beating and punishments. A notable example of this, taken from one of the nanny's journals. "We were out and about for a stroll. T'was me, little Cat, and one of her handmaidens. We was out to show her the different parts of the undercity, some of the deeper tunnels. To our unfortune, we ran into a drider. Awful creatures, I started to usher her away from the abomination, but she resisted. When I informed her that her mother would hear about her disobedience, she spat in my face! Can you believe that? That's not all though, she ran -towards- the beast, arms open. She /embraced/ it! Learned her lesson though, the thing bit her. She was sick for days while the healers worked to get the venom out 'o her. Bloody sod."
When she recovered, she was marched into her mothers chambers. Glaring down at her whelp from behind an ornate desk, she started through the motion. She first scolded, then tried to make her look feel guilty. When it was apparent that none of that was working, she just waved her hand in distress "It's obvious you simply don't care. Well if that's the way it is then." she said, ushering the defiant child on her way. The full consequences of her actions wouldn't be felt 'till a couple days later. One morning whilst at play, she was altered to the sound of her mother entering the room. Accompanying her was her brother, along with another woman she didn't have the pleasure of knowing. Her mother beckoned her over, starting to introduce her to the new woman "This is priestess Anya..." it only took a few moment for the girl to realize she was being given away. After glancing nervously to her brother(from whom she received no support), she reluctantly went with the woman.
The group her and her brother were being charged into were none other then the Shadowblades. A shadowy organization that operated within the undercities before the cataclysm. They were devout religious fanatics, worshiping Lloth. They were extremely deadly assassins, versed in magic as well as the blade. They would kill anyone, if the pay was high enough. In this way they live to ensure the Underdark exists in plotting and betrayal, as a service to Lloth. And for the next eighty five years they lived, breathed, served the shadow.
Stuff went swimmingly for them. Vorn quickly took to the order, becoming known for his skill and ability. A bold statement, considering he was among elite assassins. His sister on the other hand, was less then proficient in terms of martial standards(Relative to the group, of course). She usually devoted herself to scholastic pursuits. She quickly picked up the art of Sigillum, learning how to enchant scrolls with magical instructions. She provided the organization with scrolls, sometimes with enchantments, and with seals. And for eighty five years they served Lloth, carrying out her dark intentions. Somewhere along the line, near the end of their eighty third year of service, something happened.
In a mixture of hate against his family, the female dominated society of the Underdark, and his own lot in life (stuffed into a closet by his family) he turned from Lloth to Shar and led an attempt to usurp the reigning matriarch. After his failed attempt he was hunted, and fled the Underdark, taking his sister with him. And then all was darkness, for almost a month it was dark. Prowling through the underground. And then there was light. They emerged into the jungles of Sarkum, thankfully at night. Eventually they reached a port town, parting ways.
Biography:-The Whelping
Spoiler:
'Not a creature was stirring, not eve- Is that a bear? Oh, of course it's not." Catilyn murmured to her babe. The swaddled drow infant gurgled some unintelligible, grabbing at the page of the book. Catilyn poked his nose "You look just like your uncle.” The child's father staggered out of bed, wrapping his arms around Catilyn “I've got to be back with the company soon.... I'll visit when I can” the male drow gave her a soft white smile, caressing her cheek before moving to don his armor. And then he was gone, leaving Cat all alone with her baby.
She hadn't strayed too far from her home, really. She was still in Sarkum, on the outskirts of Sur'Kas, living in a rather modest stone house. After the black tower, a huge number of drow had exited through Sarkum, giving her ample opportunity to find a mate. It was a rather uneventful union. She used him for a few moons, loved him and caressed him. It was her moons blood, or lack thereof that really things interesting. His seed quickened, churning into a little boy. T'was a surprise, causing a total paradigm shift on her part.
She was young! A mere hundred and forty years old. A mother already, can you believe it? She and her young little whelpling got along well for about a hundred years. They set up a curio shop on the coast, dealing in oddities and magical trinkets. It was amusing for a time, to be sure. But eventually her young hatchling got bored, as all do. And left, as all do.
Biography:-The Archivists of Light
Spoiler:
There was a period of silence. Of roaming, and of birdwatching. “Look at that jay! Excellent plumage.” she muttered to no one in particular, scratching it down in her notebook. To the casual observer, it was a life without direction, and possibly quite insane. In its own quiet little way. There was a period where she sat atop a mountain, bellowing out curses at the giants below who lacked the aptitude to climb and reach her.
But then came the interesting part. She began to walk the path of light. Well, demonic light. Who cares where the light came from? It all started with a stone. An interesting stone, to be sure. Well, more of a gemstone really. The translucent cordonium, within imbuned an imp. It sparked her interest, leading her down a long line of dusty back rooms, and even dustier books.
She implored herself studying the beings known as demons. Of Baator, of Daggoth, of Sameal and Zeachariah. But her gross independent research attracted the attention of the Archivists of Light. Always in search of knowledgeable and capable members, she was quickly enthralled in the vast tides of material they had collected. There were years where she seldon left the libraries, weather in the Archivists realm or outside.
And of course this knowledge was not completely wasted. She was occasionally dispatched to deal with a possession, or a rampant or malicious demon. As a researcher, she was sometimes forced to display some form of outward thinking, often assisting a fellow member or pupil with research and such, but it was begrudgingly. It was a rare moon that she found a project that she was truly interested in.
There was a particular student of note that caught her eye. A young human with personality querks as interesting as her own. This person displayed increasingly interesting compulsive behaviors. Cat quickly took to her, instructing her in all the arts she knew. Late night study sessions, camping in the library, debating about this subject or that. It was blissful for a time, until her own behavior killed her. The student set out to re-organize the entire library. She was unsuccessful, not surprisingly. The library contained an innumerable amount of books, shelves miles long. The task did however, leave her in a state of severe malnutrition, which proved to be her death after she was left unattended in a queer corner of the library. This was the breaking point for Cat. “These people are really weird....” she thought to herself as she set off. “Perhaps I should visit my brother?”
Abilities: Shadowmeld <||||||||||> The ability to meld into the shadows, as the title suggests. The users body becomes more translucent the more proficient they are. While not invisibility, it's still very good for hiding. Catilyn made limited use of this ability during her time as a Shadowblade, although she hasn't used it in a while. Shadowbolt <||||||||||> The user casts out a bolt of shadow energy at the opponent, draining life-force and causing intense pain if successful. Another spell learned during her time as a Shadowblade, and another spell that hasn't been used in a while. Imp Not really an ability per say, but a summoned companion. The imp usually hovers over her right shoulder, generally invisible. It's used mainly for chores, but has two advantages. It can produce a weaker invisibility field, allowing it to spy on more mundane citizens. It also has the gift of truesight, and is able to see through illusionry
Skills: Small Blades/Knives <|||||||||> The only martial skill for which Cat showed any sort of aptitute(and kept using), proficient to a moderate degree. By no means a master, or even an expert she can still hold her own when things get up and close. Weaving/Magical command <|||||||||> A skill which she just cannot grasp properly, Cat only has a very limited command of dynamic magic and weaving. She can cast very basic spells, but anything complex is going to require another method. And because of this, she has relied on scrolls to execute her magic for her. Scrolls <||||||||||> Due to almost three hundred and fifty years of relying on sigilum and scrolls for all but the most basic tasks, she has achieved an extremely high degree of eloquence and proficiency with said methods. Demonology <||||||||||> In reward for countless thousands of hours studying demonology outside and within the Archivists of Light, she has achieved a high degree of knowledge and understanding pretaining to the nature and rituals of demonkind. Martial Prowess <||||||||||> While she does possess training(however unpracticed), and has a state of relative fitness, she's got a very poor grip of martial abilites. In a straight up fight, against your standard mercenary, it'd be a close call. Quotes: "Driders are like lemon cakes. They're made of really sour stuff, but once you bite into them they're actually really sweet." "Brother, this isn't about which god is better. They're all dicks, you just have to decide which you prefer to be fucked by.
