- Messages
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- Character Biography
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Ispir might not have been the sharpest blade in the barracks but even he could tell that his travel from Crobhear toward where he has been told Drow were said to roam in The Spine has been.... Unusual. No sounds of wildlife permeated the scant treetops that dotted the mountains. Even the scant villages that existed between Crobhear and Gild were now nowhere to be seen. He has even felt watched once he had grown close enough to where this entrance to where the Drow dwelt was supposed to be.
For those Drow posted close to the surface, and even those ranging above ground, they would be met with equal surrealism. Walking alone through the cold ridges of the mountain, into one of the more heavily guarded entrance down toward the old rulership of Zar'Ahal, to Tor'Rahel bound, was a lone small figure bearing a dark cloak emblazoned with the Queen's own sigil.
But a special kind of bewilderment would be waiting for one Zathria At'Arel at her post. That lone figure would approach, hood drawn up to hide their features, cloak bundled tightly around themselves to largely obscure their form, before a pale, soft hand would extend from the cloak. Gentle, star-like light would blossom above their palm to fill the tunnel at the first sign of any Drow to speak to. Whether a patrol of Zathria's or an outright gatehouse built into the mountain, this light.... Would not harm the eyes of even a Drow. Giving them the novel experience of getting to see what looked for all the world like a star in the palm of this figure's hand without it's light searing or discomforting them.
Ispir had, after all, been practicing since his adventure with Ria. He didn't like the idea of his light causing her pain so.... He adapted. That lone, short figure almost a half foot shorter than even Zathria, would then speak in a gentle voice that nonetheless carried far, far wider than it had any right to through the tunnel.
"Hello? I was hoping to meet some Drow here. I'm looking for someone."
For those Drow posted close to the surface, and even those ranging above ground, they would be met with equal surrealism. Walking alone through the cold ridges of the mountain, into one of the more heavily guarded entrance down toward the old rulership of Zar'Ahal, to Tor'Rahel bound, was a lone small figure bearing a dark cloak emblazoned with the Queen's own sigil.
But a special kind of bewilderment would be waiting for one Zathria At'Arel at her post. That lone figure would approach, hood drawn up to hide their features, cloak bundled tightly around themselves to largely obscure their form, before a pale, soft hand would extend from the cloak. Gentle, star-like light would blossom above their palm to fill the tunnel at the first sign of any Drow to speak to. Whether a patrol of Zathria's or an outright gatehouse built into the mountain, this light.... Would not harm the eyes of even a Drow. Giving them the novel experience of getting to see what looked for all the world like a star in the palm of this figure's hand without it's light searing or discomforting them.
Ispir had, after all, been practicing since his adventure with Ria. He didn't like the idea of his light causing her pain so.... He adapted. That lone, short figure almost a half foot shorter than even Zathria, would then speak in a gentle voice that nonetheless carried far, far wider than it had any right to through the tunnel.
"Hello? I was hoping to meet some Drow here. I'm looking for someone."