Early Life​

For the first 24 years of her life, Monifa lived in the vibrant crossroads of Fal’Addas, where Orcs, Dwarves, Elves, and Humans coexisted. Her lineage made her a curiosity: born of a full-blooded Drow father and a proud Orc mother. She grew up under the shadow of great legacies. Her father’s blood carried generations of dark magic, honed through centuries of political subtlety and arcane control. Her mother’s strength came not only from muscle but from a cultural bond with the land itself—an Orcish reverence for the spirits of nature that gave rise to both shaman and warrior. But Monifa was neither spell-weaver nor war-leader. She was adrift.

Calling to Midwifery​

That changed the day she witnessed an ancient ritual: an elder midwife bringing a stillborn child back to life. Through chants that stirred the threads of fate and salves warmed by sacred fire, life returned where it had faltered. That moment anchored her purpose.

The midwife—an old elf with silver eyes—took Monifa under her wing. The apprenticeship was grueling but sacred. She learned the rituals of protection, the sacred flora of birth, and the laws of ancestral permission that no incantation dared breach. Under the moonlight, she harvested herbs, and by firelight, she ground roots into balm. In service, she felt powerful for the first time.

Over five years, Monifa assisted with births across species. She tended to Orc mothers prone to hemorrhage, Dwarf women whose labors strained even their iron resilience, and Human families afraid of curses and stillbirths. The work earned her praise—and derision. Some mocked midwifery as superstition, but Monifa's elders warned her:
"Disrespect toward our duty is not just insult—it is a curse upon one’s lineage."

The Visit from the Underrealm​

Monifa’s quiet life came undone during the height of summer in her 49th year, when a shadowed envoy from the Underrealm appeared without warning. The visitor was a female Drow warrior—powerful, severe, and unyielding. She brought no gifts, spoke no pleasantries. Her presence was the message. She came for Monifa.

Envoy: “The child of fate must return with me. She is not yours.”
Mother: “She belongs to no one. Least of all you.”

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To Monifa’s father, the envoy was a cruel reminder of the world he had fled. Male Drow were second-class citizens at best—tools of war, labor, or breeding. Though he had escaped the suffocating matriarchy of his homeland, this warrior’s arrival proved that some chains are never fully broken. Her words stripped him of dignity in his own home, treating him as irrelevant. Monifa’s mother, proud and protective, refused to be spoken down to. No one insulted her family—not in her house, and not without consequence.

The Magical Rampage​

What began as a standoff spiraled into chaos. When the envoy turned violent, Monifa ran to the local security force for help. But in a cruel twist of fate, the envoy’s magic struck Monifa instead—an accident, but a catastrophic one. Something inside her snapped. The attack did not merely injure—it awakened.

The result was not magic. It was a storm. Dark tendrils erupted from her, lashing out with feral hunger. The air turned thick with death and ancestral wrath. Her scream cracked the stone walls, and the power she released tore reality around her like brittle parchment.

Her magic wasn’t just untamed—it was a storm breaking through bloodlines that had no right to meet.

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Her Orcish spirit and Drow legacy clashed violently within her, creating something new and terrifying. In mere moments, the envoy was consumed—her bones cracking beneath a force that was part magic, part primal vengeance.

Aftermath​

When Monifa awoke, her world had changed. There was no celebration—only silence. Her mother’s arms trembled as they embraced her. Her father looked on not in anger, but in horror. He had seen powerful Drow magic—illusions, shadows, even the bending of will—but never this. What Monifa had unleashed was raw, volcanic, and unnatural. Not born of training or purpose, but emotion.

Her father, raised in a culture that worships discipline, could not understand her gift—if it was a gift at all. It terrified him. Her mother, though equally shaken, stood resolute. Orcs do not fear strength—they fear when it comes without meaning. Monifa’s magic had no direction, no harmony with the land. It was fury without cause.

Leaving Fal’Addas​

The decision to leave was not exile. It was necessity. Her father no longer trusted that Fal'Addas could protect Monifa—or that it wouldn't try to destroy her. In the Underrealm, power without control is hunted, subdued, or broken. And in Fal’Addas, suspicion blooms easily.

Her mother agreed, though for different reasons. Monifa needed space to grow, to learn who she truly was—not just as an apprentice, or a daughter, but as a woman on the verge of a power that could remake or ruin her. Together, they left Fal’Addas. Not in shame—but in fear of what the world would do to someone it couldn’t understand.

Powers and Potential​

Monifa’s magic remains largely undefined. It is a confluence of two incompatible traditions: the structured arcana of the Drow and the instinctive, nature-bound power of the Orcs. Her ability to manipulate life and death appears tied to emotional outbursts and ancestral interference. She continues to train in the healing arts, hoping one day to understand what she unleashed—and whether it was a fluke or a sign of what she is becoming.