Lesser Drow Warblade
Living in the shadow of fear.
That is how my friends live their lives, and its a harsh painful existence.
Not my family…
Not my father.
Not my brother.
We are outcasts. Protected by Eilistraee. And protected by our blades.
We are Drow, and we live on the surface. Forever hunted by the tools of Lolth: our own kind.
Also feared and hated by the elves of the providence.
In order to help your slow dimwitted mind process everything I am saying I will start from the beginning.
From the moment me and my brother were born we were trained in different styles of battle.
I was trained in the art of crushing my opponent as he begs for mercy.
My brother was trained to be nothing more than a whisper in the shadows as his enemies life slips away.
For 50 years we trained and fought beside our friends as each one died off.
Another 20 years later all that remains to protect our village is my family.
Over time we have been attacked by only the Drow from the Underdark and very few Elven rangers.
This all changed on the dawn of the first Winter sun.
Imagine waking to the screams of children and women being slaughtered doing morning chores.
Imagine the fear and surprise of seeing the families you’ve grown up with dead in the streets before you have a chance to save them.
The only thing I remember is my brother handing me my long sword and saying this is our only option.
We rushed to fight off our attackers, but we didn’t know what was left to fight for.
All one could see is Drow AND High Elves as allies slaughtering our village.
We fought and fought for what seemed as long as Winter itself.
It was finished. The village was burning.
The families we knew and loved were dead.
We were the only ones left.
Until we found our father.
Along with the apparent leader of the High Elf warriors.
Surprise and confusion were the only things we felt.
He told us to sit and that he would explain.
It was clear to us.
Each warrior of the Secret Moondance village was given a blade of the anscestors.
Neither me or my brother had recieved ours yet because we hadn’t reached the age yet.
My brother and I looked at each other in horror and couldn’t decide what we would do. Until the high elf stood up.
My brother reacted and lunged at him and stabbed him through the chest with his short sword.
Our father said everything about our god was a lie. Ellistraee wasn’t real. He said it. Unbelievable…or…
My father stood and reached for his blade. I also grabbed his full blade’s hilt.
He ordered me to release it so he could punish my brother, but in my mind I knew the way today would end.
My brother slowly picked up the elf’s strange blade and stared at our father.
All my brother saw was our father’s full blade…bloodied, black, and our fathers body split in two.
From that point on my brother and I survived, trained, and hunted for 10 years until we decided it was time.
To give you the basics of our next year I will keep it simple. Only because our decisions during this year would frighten you to much.
We travelled to the Underdark in search of anyone. Each Drow we found we slaughtered.
My brother and I left nothing alive in our wake. From children, to pets, to fathers, to mothers, and also to the innocent slaves.
Over 200 dead. We were cold. We were killers. We were protectors.
My brother’s blades slicing through throats, piercing hearts, and crippling foes only to be struck down by my father’s fullblade.
Nothing we found survived.
It wasn’t all of them, but one day we will get them.
Then was the elf camps.
Each one we came across was left in devestation.
Whether it was travellers or soldiers. None lived.
We killed over 100 elves within months.
Our hatred is suppressed, but everything we have is gone.
I am my own blade. I only rely on myself. As does my brother.
We now travel in order to find the truth of Elistraee.
I don’t know what my brother went.
He left me and I’m alone.
Everyone I know is gone.
Its just me.