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The Armies.
Reworking of my original list. RPCs not commonly used were removed, and new ones have been added in! <Any and all pictures found are taken from a variety of DeviantArtists>
"Olath, kus ussta ndeir ortelassan ulu Ilta phor..."
"Dark, send my final prayers to Her above..."

Name: Daxunyrr Auvryviir-Baent'tar

Appearance: Daxunyrr stands at approximately 5'4" and weighing around 145 lbs without armor, with a skin tone reminiscent of obsidian stone and pure white hair kept painstakingly close to the skin. His average build shows evidence of long, lean muscle that isn't bulked up like a human or orcs, but just refined and toned to hide the force he can command. His posture is stiff and formal at all times, though whether it's from habit, nervousness, or unease is unknown. Just below the knuckles on his left hand is a symbol burned into the flesh, possibly the glyph for the House he served.

Daxunyrr's face is horridly scarred on the right side, covered in severe burn marks that seem to hide everything else, leaving him half blind with only one pink-colored iris to see with. The parts of his face he can use, however, generally have scowls or glares and other disapproving or negative connotations. His good eye has been known to turn yellow when ill or poisoned. What parts of his head are intact though are beginning to show signs of age, most likely due to stress and worries as opposed to natural processes.

Age: 389 years... Give or take.

Dress Attire: Daxunyrr has a liking for simple clothes in blacks or dark purples, forgetting his race's love of extravagance and unnecessary flaunting of what he considers to be 'gaudy trinkets'. He keeps only one piece of jewelry about him, and it is more out of personal value than any form of wealth: A silver ring with a single amethyst in it given to him by one of the Matron's daughters, the one testiment he ever had to the power he had at finally earned back Home before it was ripped away. Attached to a small iron chain, he wears it around his neck as a personal good luck token. Outside of this bizarre accessory though, it isn't uncommon to see him in peasant or farmer's clothes, though a cloth or leather hood accompanies him at all times, more to help his vision than to hide his race.

For battle though, he switches over to a suit of chainmail, as it is his race's preferred armor. It provides him all of the necessary weapons from that which he fears: The axe, the sword, and the ever treacherous knife, while he relies on his natural lithe and warrior 'grace' of his kind to keep out of the way of the ever so often wielded Hammer.

Regardless of occasion, a thick wool glove covers his left hand at all times.

Behaviors: In many ways, Daxunyrr is a traditional and common Dark Elf to the core: When he interacts with the surface world he only communicates to those who hold power or those he has a specific need for, and will often begin plotting the 'unfortunate' ending of the other party within minutes of first contact, as he identifies them as threats to his own control and power.

Dax is quick to judge people based on the appearance they give him, and has admitted that 'he has been wrong before', yet never changes, in fact often demanding someone prove their "value or worth" if they claim to be a person of importance, or if they claim to be the one in charge, "prove their control", which will often involving the Elf merely watching and observing as he judges. Daxunyrr refuses to work with other Elves, and will often act like they don't even exist; ignoring anything and everything an Elf will say. It is nearly impossible to tell if what he says is truth or false, as he weaves the two together fluidly in his speech, often giving just enough of one to make you suspect the rest is the same.

He shows no empathy, no care, and no restraint towards those who he finds who are not skilled or lack in power or control. Dax will trample anyone in his way who he doesn’t seem worthy, and only watches out for those who are skilled. Should a person skilled or talented in any field suffer a permanently ill fate, he will lament the loss of their skill, but it should be noted that he never laments the loss of the person, just their talent. Assuming he finds another Drow, he would only protect them if their skills made them worthy of being protected, showing that this judging system of his is not race-specific. As well, Dax will never respond to those who talk about his facial scar, and has killed people in city streets for talking or whispering about it.

Weaponry: Daxunyrr prefers a longsword which he wields with both hands. Despite the bland and normal appearance though, a length of wire runs through the blade that allows him to extends its reach by breaking the sword into smaller pieces, turning it into a more whip-like weapon. When in this state, the swords reach is doubled and tends to catch foes by surprise.

Skills: Along with his refined swordsmanship, Daxunyrr is adjusted to multi-layered plots and schemes from his homeland society, giving him a sort of sense when dealing with would-be surface schemers. Life in the underground has exposed him to magical threats that the Surface would challenge to equal, leaving him fairly resistant to ill-intended magics.

True to his racial roots, he knows the art of potion and poison making, and knows a remedy for almost any poison he encounters. He wields a corrupted form of earth magic, often using natural elements as a source for traps and poison spells. Years of having to work with the surface have made him polylingual, speaking in his native tongue, surface elven tongue, and the language of humans.

Important Past Events

- Born into a moderate standing, as his mother Iraebelar Auvryviir was a modest ranking Priestess into House Auvryviir. Because of his natural force of arms he held, Daxunyrr was quick to whip the other males over enough to gain some amount of control and command over his fellow gender, though he was still at the mercy of the women.

- By his 110th year, Daxunyrr had fought and manipulated his way within his own house to being the next Weapon Master. House Matron G'eldilph Auvryviir's Thirdborn Daughter, Jysned Auvryviir, was eyeing him as a potential Patron. As a token of this potential, Daxunyrr was gifted her insignia ring, a silver band with a single amethyst inside.

- Year 138 of Daxunyrr's life, G'eldilph tasked him with going to the surface to stir up hatred towards Elves in Human and Orc settlements. At an unknown and to this day unspoken of time in this mission, an accident occurred that marred his face permanently. The mission took place over several months that year.

- Jysned Auvryviir's favor was lost on his return upon seeing his disfigured visage. In an attempt to regain this favor he plotted in secrecy a plan to overthrow House Helvirahel. Seven other Auvryviir males were chosen by Daxunyrr to attempt this silent take over. A botched mission by Wehlvesz Auvryviir would lead to the Council Houses wiping out House Auvryviir for engaging in open war in public. Daxunyrr goes into hiding as the Nobility of House Auvryviir are killed and the lesser classes given as slaves to House Helvirahel. After a period of years, Daxunyrr was found and the sight of his deformity forced a planned execution upon him.

- Imprisoned for a series of fifteen years, Daxunyrr Auvryviir escaped before he could be executed, fleeing to the surface and killing any chasers sent after him. He has lived for the past 231 years up on the Surface, though none of his beliefs have wavered since this exile. He has slowly begun to accumulate a following of similarly exiled Drow, forming a Patriarchal society of nomadic Drow on the surface. In time, he plans to return to his city-state and capture its whole, forcing House Baent'tar to be the sole controlling factor in the city.


"... Neitar izin l'hommeke xuz. Fashka ussta orn ulu dro pholor mal'rak."

"... Never allow the endeavors end. Force my will to live on forever."

"Sila nau shinduago Darthien p'los uns'aa, xor Usstan orn lli mina wund l'tona'nind kuuv phlyle nind ehmtu."
"Bring no surface Elves before me, or I will lay them into the dirt they dare claim their own.





 
 
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