First Name: Mioz
Last Name: Mizzrym
Appearance:
A haggard drow showing the early signs of aging, with fine lines under his eyes and a peculiar, tell-tale hue to his long, shaggy, unkempt silvery-white hair. His attire is typically marred by mud, slime and a variety of other unidentifiable cave-muck, and when he's not in battle he hikes about with an old, battered quarterstaff.
Race:
Drow
Age:
Nearing the end.
Height
Slightly above average
Weight:
Slightly below average, just a little gaunt.
Eyes:
Red
Hair:
Long, white, wildly unkempt
Facial Hair Style:
N/A
Personality Profile:
Old, grumpy, a survivor above all, and an opportunist who carefully chooses his words and his allies. Indifferent towards the suffering of strangers, unwaveringly loyal to proven allies, this old drow realises the tactical advantage in having comrads you can trust.
General Health:
Time is beginning to catch up on the drow, who would still be lean and muscular, but who would also tire easily, and suffer from soreness of the knees.
Deity:
Wouldn't want to give away all my secrets just yet.
Initial Alignment:
Neutral Evil
Profession:
Hunter
Base Class & Proposed Development:
Ranger
Habits/Hobbies:
Languages:
Svirfneblin, draconian, drow, animal, drow sign, undercommon, elven
Weapon of Choice:
Scimitar, longbow
Background:
Irae Mizzym blinked her red eyes as she looked out over the cavern and steadied her breath. Her heart still pounded hard in her chest, sending blood racing through her veins as she clutched at her ceremonial dagger and listened to the sounds of soldiers echoing through the twisting tunnels in pursuit. Irae was a drow, a dark elf in service of the Goddess Lolth, and her house had drawn the ire of Lolth, which could mean only one thing: extermination, and in knowing her fate was sealed in the city of Cress D' Veldrin Irae made her escape to the tunnels of the underdark, to that obscure and desolate cavern.
She lifted her ceremonial dagger to her neck, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts of the fate that awaited her at the at the hands of her pursuers, or worse, in the untamed wilds of the underdark. Those thoughts urged her to press that fine blade against her skin against every instinct for survival, piercing the flesh and drawing blood. She grimaced and drew the dagger away, cursing her weakness. “A swift end is more than most drow get,” she reminded herself as she raised the dagger a second time. It was then that she felt a kick deep in her belly, as the child she carried moved within her. Irae lowered the dagger again, and an foreign emotion took hold of her as she considered the fate of the child. "He would only slow me down", she reminded herself with a scowl. "We are doomed", she murmured down stoically as she raised the dagger a second time. This time, however, she could not draw the dagger to her neck. That unfamiliar feeling beckoned to her and implored her to stop.
She shut her eyes tightly and the tears that welled there rolled down her cheeks. She stood there motionless as the moments passed, until finally, in resignation, she re-sheathed her blade. The mother in her insisted she survive.
**
Many years had passed since that day in the cavern, and Irae had given birth to her child, Mioz Mizzrym, alone in the wilds of the underdark. Lolth would not hear her prayers any longer, but she was no stranger to the sword and was forged in the city of Cress D' Veldrin, a city which made a survivor out of everyone.
She looked over her child, Mioz Mizzrym, as he tended to the mushroom patches with meticulous care, and considered his fate. The odds were grim that he would survive, she knew. He was young and did not have the benefit of a soldier's training in the Fighter's Academy. He would have to be trained, not only to fight, but to survive the vastness of the underdark, with all its perils. “He will take up the sword next cycle,” she decided with a grim nod.
**
Irae watched her son sleep and took pride in the sight of him, strong and capable as he came of age. His hands knew the sword intimately now, and through her teachings he spent the last year tending to the duties of their home single-handedly. She dared to smile at the comfortable rest he took, and once again tears welled in her eyes and she drew close to him to whisper. "My job here is nearly done, my boy, but I have one final lesson left to teach you," she murmured gently to him as he slept. She took one last long look at her child and then slowly rose to unbuckle her blades from her belt and quietly cast off her armor, setting it aside neatly for him; her final gift. Alone and unprepared, she walked into the depths of the underdark, welcoming the fate that she knew awaited her there with the reassuring knowledge that her child might just survive.**
Mioz once made his home in the tunnels deep in the earth of an island called Arelith. There, the solitary drow spent most of his days wandering the shadows of the twisting tunnels of the underdark, foraging, hunting, surviving.That is until the Illithid came. An unrelenting and impossibly efficient enemy which ravaged the land, enthralling who they could and killing the rest.
In a desperate bid for survival the surrounding settlements formed an unlikely, tentative alliance.
All races, even those who were sworn enemies, were forced to unite against this common enemy, and through their collective inginuity they formed a settlement protected from the Illithid and their powers.
With no other choice but to defend the territory or become enthralled, Mioz took up the fight and reluctantly rose in rank as a member of the Hunters, an organization which specialized in tracking, hunting, and killing the Illithid, and liberating or euthanizing their thralls. Despite the Hunters and their best efforts, the war still rages on to this day, the Illithid ranks never diminishing.
Amongst the hunters was a young and able-bodied warrior by the name of Kiya. Skilled with the scimitar, despite her small stature, she too was a senior-ranking member of the hunters, until one fateful cycle, at the behest of a seemingly-bottomless keg of ale, she earned the ire of the the wrong wizard; a master transmuter by the name of Jhul'vus, who placed a wicked and enduring curse upon her and fled the land.
The Hunters would not take such aggression lightly however, and through their network of of contacts they tracked Jhul'vus to a distant region of the underdark, a city which welcomed mages from abroad, a city named Sshamath.
So it was that Mioz and Kiya departed from Pit Town in pursuit of the archwizard, and after many many cycles of arduous travel, they finally set foot upon the city of Sshamath in search of their prey.
Possible Plot-Hook Ideas and Misc Facts:
-To track down the archwizard Jhul'vus and restore the Huntress Kiya to her former self. (see below.)
-To become the finest hunter and tracker the underdark has ever known, and to one day slay an elder-brain, the epitomy of his most hated enemy: The Illithid.
-To find a secluded glade in the forest of the aboveworld to release his old bear Bartholomew, where it can spend the remainder of it's (numbered) days in it's natural environment and die old, fat, and happy.