Rae'twyn, Stealer of Hearts
Rae'twyn's Theme
What, this? This hardly counts as a dagger, friend. I use this to eat with! Perhaps clean my nails and teeth on occasion. But you truly think me capable of injuring anyone with this dinner knife? I can hardly pierce venison as it is. But, ah, I do need it back. It was my mother's.
- Rae'twyn, speaking to a bouncer
Rae'twyn Suvalissaere used to be one of the favourite courtesans in the Undercity, currying favour with the high and mighty matriarchy of the city.
However, the higher one goes, the harder the fall. Involved in a plot devised against his preferred lover, a priestess and matriarch in the making, Rae'twyn was accused of heresy and sentenced to death.
The day before his execution, he made his escape, by the aid of his former lover. She gave him her magical pendant as a farewell gift and something to remember her by - if ever true love could exist in drow society, it might between the two, inseparable even before the worst of consequences.
Now he wanders the underrealm and the surface world, searching for a means to reunite with her, and to avoid the agents of his house, seeking his death. And perhaps make a few interesting experiences on the way.
Appearance
Rae'twyn has a weakness for rubies, decorating himself with the precious gemstone whenever he can, since it matches the mischevious sparkle in his eye. His long white hair runs free and well-combed, a prized asset among many of his patrons in the Undercity. He moves with the easy elegance of a dancer, nimble of feet and effortless with his smiles. His skin is dark, even darker than most drow, causing his white smile of perfect teeth and dangerous red eyes to stand out.
Piercings, rings and studded pieces of his clothing all carry fragments of rubies. But the most eye-catching gemstone is the one he wears around his neck as a pendant. This grants him minor magical abilities, a borrowed keepsake from his priestess soulmate.
Piercings, rings and studded pieces of his clothing all carry fragments of rubies. But the most eye-catching gemstone is the one he wears around his neck as a pendant. This grants him minor magical abilities, a borrowed keepsake from his priestess soulmate.
Skills and Abilities
+ Dancing in a most scandalous fashion.
+ A deft undresser, both of himself and others. Even more scandalously.
+ Expert self-grooming. An important skill.
+ Smooth-talking and thick compliments.
+ Stabbing others in the back. Literally and metaphorically.
+ Hiding in creative spots, such as inside wardrobes, underneath tables or hanging from windows. Particularly from angry cuckolds.
- Lacks understanding of the surface world.
- Unable to take orders or to stick to a plan for long.
- Absolutely chaotic. His whims may flip or flop in many directions to whatever seems the most amusing to him.
- "Blinded by the light." Sunshine doesn't take kindly to him.
+ A deft undresser, both of himself and others. Even more scandalously.
+ Expert self-grooming. An important skill.
+ Smooth-talking and thick compliments.
+ Stabbing others in the back. Literally and metaphorically.
+ Hiding in creative spots, such as inside wardrobes, underneath tables or hanging from windows. Particularly from angry cuckolds.
- Lacks understanding of the surface world.
- Unable to take orders or to stick to a plan for long.
- Absolutely chaotic. His whims may flip or flop in many directions to whatever seems the most amusing to him.
- "Blinded by the light." Sunshine doesn't take kindly to him.
Personality
The canny observer or historian will note the infamous callousness of drow within him, much as he likes to protest otherwise and claim all the innocence in the world. His voice comes across as a light, indulgent form of persuasion, capable of speaking about the most grotesque of subjects with all the joy of a dryad and the purity of an angel. He is not above any means to success - thick compliments, flirtation, blackmail, pathetic grovelling or entertaining performances. Whatever it takes. Rae'twyn carries few scruples and little pride, willing to go to almost any length to get what he wants.
Given his past, one might think that Rae'twyn has every right to be a brooding loner. Nothing could be further from the truth. He faces his obstacles and trials with a defiant smile, adamant to seek pleasure and amusement in whatever situation he might find himself in. He is open to any that he meets, affable and sociable to a fault, perhaps worryingly so, considering the reputation of the drow. To admit sorrow, grief, anger or regret would be an admission of defeat, in his book. So when his enemies frustrate his efforts further, his smirk only widens. And his dagger sharpens.
If he is provoked, you will rarely hear an insult thrown in wrath from his end. More likely than not, he would compliment you - especially if the insult or witticism carried a creative stamp. But you may feel a dagger lodged between your shoulder-blades when you look away.
Given his past, one might think that Rae'twyn has every right to be a brooding loner. Nothing could be further from the truth. He faces his obstacles and trials with a defiant smile, adamant to seek pleasure and amusement in whatever situation he might find himself in. He is open to any that he meets, affable and sociable to a fault, perhaps worryingly so, considering the reputation of the drow. To admit sorrow, grief, anger or regret would be an admission of defeat, in his book. So when his enemies frustrate his efforts further, his smirk only widens. And his dagger sharpens.
If he is provoked, you will rarely hear an insult thrown in wrath from his end. More likely than not, he would compliment you - especially if the insult or witticism carried a creative stamp. But you may feel a dagger lodged between your shoulder-blades when you look away.
Biography & Lore
A Letter Home
Written in Undercommon, with a faint whiff of lily.
Jas’thalline, my cradled Lady of Hearts,
As I write to you, I think of your succulent scent and the white cream of your hair, flowing so deliciously from your supple neck. Your skin - smooth and drak gray as a basalt pillar - that sparkles with pearls rather than sweat, your eyes that glint with a pair of rubies and your fingers growing regal claws. Ah, I remember those claws well – your mark is still present in the mirror, by the by. I hope the touch of my fingers and the kiss of my lips on this humble parchment reaches you, a faint remnant of the feverish embrace I would have given you, had I the chance. We shall not be separate for long, I assure you. Our kind have learned to wait, and so we must both be temper our passions with patience. Something I am certain many a teaching of the Dark Ones will emphasise. When you recite your prayers and kneel for your meditations, think of me among all that incense and smoke, will you? I shall be smiling down at you. Perhaps offering a cheeky little wink – who can say?
Worry not for my health, my Usta’lah, I am alive and well as ever. The sun burns on the surface, the boundless blue sky seems an endless drop I fear I shall fall out of, and the locals are as taciturn as ever. But if these deterrents can keep me in check, then imagine its effect on the Suvalissaere raiding parties. The best shroud I could ever hope for comes, ironically, from that glaring disk in the sky, scorching away their sights. As you read this, I shall be closer than ever towards our reunification.
That should help keep your mind off of that sallow-cheeked suitor of yours - what was his name again, Lie'rish? I recall his penchant for frilly coats and fashion sense fit for the last century, despite being barely past his first one. I trust he won't take your rejection too hard, despite getting his hopes up from being your mother's first choice.
Speaking of which, Mother Tryz'lienra, should you have gotten your greedy tendrils on this, and be devouring these words rather than its intended recipient, allow me to congratulate you. In that case, your little agents would have earned their keep. But I can assure you that it is a fruitless endeavour to track me down. I would have given you a small clue to make things more interesting, if I even knew where I was! So I’m afraid all I can offer is to wish you the very best of luck in finding me. I could use some leisure activity. Then I could skin your scouts and warriors alive, perhaps send their fingers or ears back as a souvenir, a token of my good health? Things can get so awfully droll up here.
My heart in your hands,
Rae’twyn,
A Coded Message
Written inside a web-shaped fabric of spider silk, contained within a black-leathered scroll-case.
Sisters,
The impertinence of men grows. Their increasing boldness and heresy is an insult to our worship. We must curb their notions of rebellion, swiftly and without mercy. The Dark Ones teach us that remorse and attachment is a weakness for lesser species. You may grow fond of them – even care for them, as one might with a pet or a prized possession. But do not be deceived. They will stab you between your shoulder-blades as soon as you turn your back or show any sign of weakness.
I am willing to bear some of the responsibility, my sisters, if you are. I know that I am not the only one with secrets to hide, and I shall admit that one such male has escaped our household. A gnat who was taken into our glorious House by one of my foolish daughters, one supposedly experienced courtesan from the bowels of the District of Pleasure, whose trade is carnal pleasure and quivers of the flesh. A thief who stole my daughter’s sentimental heart – I would rather have lost any of our greatest treasures. A wretched thing, breeding with the same alacrity as vermin, but cunning enough to hide among other salamanders of his kind. Should you capture him outside of Zar’ahal in any of your expeditions, I would appreciate the favour of returning him to us. We shall see to his personal punishment that he has evaded so far, while my daughter will get to observe his lashed skin torn apart, piece by long piece, as we string up his corpse in spiked chains and grind every bone in his unholy body to dust.
Forgive me. The very thought carries me away in my hatred. His blatant disregard of our ways must be thoroughly vindicated, and shown as a deterrent to any would-be deviant wishing to follow in his footsteps.
Darkness Guides,
Matron Tryz’lienra do Suvalissaere
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