Death of Renor d'Unra'eth

[20:43] Shri'lua'nea swung the door open, glancing round the room.. though not far as her tutor stood just beside the bar. Folding her arms up under her chest, she tapped fingers along an elbow. The shar wasn't anywhere to be seen.. she'd not noticed her entering either so her reappearance might be quite.. startling. " Renor! " she actually spoke quietly.. but the bite in her call was noticable." You cannot mean to pit us against that behemoth! Morrigan is but days old with her blades!. Even I, with what traiining i have had.. " she simplpy shakes her head, peering intently at him, concern etched on her brow.

[20:46] Renor shifts his footing, turning his attention to Shri after she makes her statement. His unconcern showing on his face which is blank. His left shoulder lifts in a shrug in response to the pleading of Shri.

[20:49] Shri'lua'nea dropped her voice even quieter.. as intimate a tone as she could manage and still be heard byhim, and hopefully, Renor alone." what is it you expect me to do.. protect her?? She won't last a minute against him.. ~unless~ it moves through that sluggish mind of his to show her mercy!"

[20:52] Renor took a stride closer to her, closing the distance between them until they are nearly nose to nose. His hands, marked from countless battles, dips inside the tail end of her scant robe, intending to grip her firm backside before speaking, "It is not my fight."

[20:58] Shri'lua'nea gritted her teeth, stepping sharply backwards as his hand found its mark.. a move she was definitely -not- expecting. He might be her tutor, but he ~didnt'~ own her body. She let her outrage color her tone with him. " Just one ~you~ are arranging! " the lack of opiate in her system certainly showed.. She wasn't near as pliable to him in her current condition, her little rear quite tight now from all the circuits he'd made her run clenched and she attempted to wriggle it out of his grip.

[21:01] Renor delivered a firm squeeze as she began to wriggle and back out of his grip, a short chuckle escaping him before loosing the grip, "I will not be pleased if you don't survive." Remarked in the same bland manner he typically uses with all his dealings. Taking a stride to step past her and exit the tavern. He'd prefer his own company to resorting to violence in buttoning Shri's soft, yet...constantly running lips.

[21:10] Shri'lua'nea narrowed her eyes at being so dismissed. She lifted a hand to grasp his upper arm.. well away from the spikes she had noted running along his gauntlet. A momentary flash at seeing them reminded her how glad she was that he'd not worn them days earlier.. when first he moved to strike her. Her movement was likely ill considered.. Though not entirely offensive, still she was moving against her tutor.. a weapons master of ill temper and deft reflexes. "Halt! "She was poised to say more.. though suddenly realized she was defaulting back to her underdark ways.. her voice imperious and angry.. She could not help her anger.. , it nearly brimmed over as he sought to simply.. dismiss her. Gods he made her nuts at times.

[21:12] Renor paused at the sound of her voice in mid step, his boot inches from touching the floorboard. "It would be wise for you to consider your position." A glance to the hand, which he makes no move to expel from his upper arm. Calm, almost serene, wondering if he would -have- to strike her...yet again. Why didn't these drow understand, that his is a will which never bends?
[21:20] Shri'lua'nea kept her eyes glued to his and left her hand there for long moments.. almost daring him to do something, even though she absolutely understood he was quite likely to. Something in her wanted to goad him.. wanted to see a flash of anger instead of this cold, imperious disdain. "Tell me again, Renor.. what position is that?? " she bent her neck to reveal the set of ugly though healing marks still left upon her cheek.

[21:27] Renor s mailed right hand rises, then falls onto the hand which grips his left arm, plucking her paw from his meaty upper arm, which had grown substantially more taut since their first meeting. She had not been the only one in training. The problem, he knew, from long experience with drow women, is that they are much too proud. One had to strip their pride away before anything else began to sink in. Morrigan had managed to strike him in a training session only after he warned her that if he left the chamber unscathed he would march her through the streets nude and on a leash. "Are you challenging me Shri'lua'nea?" The syllables are spoken in a reasonable tone, though the glare trained on her would burn her to a crisp if the heat were real.

[21:42] Shri'lua'nea's grip was tight.. though not quite match for his seasoned and exercise abetted strength. It peeled away from his armor and balled up into a fist as he pulled it away. Shri had never been one to simply shrivel up and cower against such a threat. Frankly, she wanted to raise a hand and smack that glare right off his face. And then smack again for good measure. She actually considered it.. her fist still balled up and trembling with building anger. Her gaze grew cold as well and she attempted to pull away from the hand that had peeled her away from him." Challenge you?? What, to a sword fight??" She audibly pffts her disdain." You know I have little talent with such unweildy things. What ~challenge~ could I offer the 'Great and Powerful Renor'?" she could not help the feral grin that formed 'round her lips as she baited him.. or attempted to.

[21:48] Renor is ever opporunistic. As soon as he heard, 'Challenge you' casually disregarding the interrogative nature of the statement, he spoke quickly, "I accept." And strode out of the tavern, the rest of her speech pleasantly ignored. Calling behind him, "The Slums." Obviously since he was challenged, he would be picking the location.

[21:52] Renor heard the yell, but like magic, he's able to turn off that nagging voice, had been such a young age, the one that says, "It's wrong it's wrong it'swrongitswrongitswrongwrongwrong" had been beaten to a lifeless pulp in his lifetime, and he continued until he reached the slums.

[21:58] Shri'lua'nea stalked after Renor with blood in her eyes.. almost literally. She definitey wanted to strike him though was ever concious of his greater strength and experience. " You son of a wretched Rivvel.. you twisted that like Lloth twists her silly drider bitches. " Stripping off her skirt, she tossed it aside. Likely he was set onthis course.. She had no idea how he'd first strike or with what weapon.

[22:00] Renor made no move to strip off his kilt, his hands remain serenely at his side. "At the end of your training you'd be in this same situation. This is the end of your training. Best me or die Shri'lua'nea." Had he once thought she would make it? Yes, he had...but then again, he had been rather soft. Circuits and advice...the first challenge, the first hurdle in her training, defeating a lump, a waste of flesh like Khrone had shown her true. Renor had found her wanting.

[22:11] Shri'lua'nea's eyes narrowed though she slowed her pace, her spine stiffening. Gods.. he meant it. He's drop her at his feet without a backward look. and here.. all she'd reallyw anted.. was to goad him into.. .. into.. what? Her mind whirled and she suddenly struck out at a pebble under her heel. ell.. she'd wanted to goad him into a fury so she might get a reaction from him,.. as the week before. She grimaced tightly and laced ehr fingers into her waistband and steeled ehrself for what might come. Speaking up to him.. she lifted her chin.. not yet making a move to her weapons. "Renor..I did ~not~ accept this challenge. And you well know it! I ASKED you to teach me .. If you wish me gone,, then kick me out.. but do it Fucking honestly! I chose you.. because your skills outmatched any I have seen.. why you agreed, I do not know, Renor. You take up sword against me in a duel to the death, you do so knowing you strike me down in cold blood. " she was furious with him.. and herself. She'd miscalculated with him

[22:11] Shri'lua'nea: .. wanting something so ridiculous..something she hadn't even admitted to herself. She was in essence, fucked, without even dragging him kicking and screaming to the bedchamber.

[22:14] Erel returns from the Divine Temple and is so busy reading she almost runs into Renor and Shri

[22:14] Shri'lua'nea: << the tension is thick.. Shris skirt sits unatended ont he floor where she tossed it.. she doesn't even look Erel's way.. her eyes only on renor.

[22:18] Renor has no problem killing in cold blood, he is beyong such preconceptions. Even if the challenge hadn't been voiced, she had been doing so since the day after their scene in the bath house. She had fled the city for a number of days, with naught but a note to explain her absence. She had openly challenged him, and in her fury, he had nearly killed her. Now, this evening, she had questioned his judgement. Intending to goad him and she had done so. Not into a blind rage, he's experienced enough to know that fighting in such a state, is certain death. "You asked me to teach you. I have been." His right hand strays to his left side, grasping the handle of the sword there and drawing it out. "You have taken it upon yourself to act out of turn, since our night of coitis." His left hand goes to right side, unstringing the small handaxe there and testing it's weight, it felt good, so his grip on the weapon redoubled. "Since you decided your training is finished, it is so." He meant what he thought rega

[22:18] Renor: rding the relatonship between master and apprentice being closer than any marriage, however, she had stepped into his boots. Of course, there's only room for one set of feet in them.

[22:23] Erel narrows her eyes, seeing her friend, or the closest thing she had to a friend in this city, in possible mortal danger. She tries first to use logic, "Renor! Sheath dosst sarol, you're
wund l' che'el fle'nruiden lu' ol's qua'laen l' charter ulu jivviim jalbyr citizen."

[22:36] Shri'lua'nea blinked at his comments.. she'd noted no change since their night together.. To her it had just been.. sex....albeit fierce and rather compelling sex.. but still. She had never assumed it gave her any ascendency over him , or even favor. It simply was. whatever fantasy he'd built around it.. wasn't of her making.. or was it? Her mind whirled again and she found only the instance of her.. unfortunate weekend sitting like a dark crystal in her mind. Perhaps this?? a brief furrow touched her forehead and she felt her stomach drop at the vague memoeries she always shadowed her returm. Would that she could shatter it .. change what had happened twenty years before. She turned a grim look his way. Once again she'd utterly screwed her life with her impulsive and thoughtless behavior. It was why she was above ground anyway, whatever his reasons, and she still didnt' understand them.. for he'd never TOLd her anything about his expectations or the sacred bond he beleived to be forged between master and student.

[22:36] Shri'lua'nea:
For once, however.. calm descended upon her. She lifted a hand to Vashta .. two fingers lifted in an odd gesture to silently request her silence. She would not go out a coward.. she would not beg or plead with him. Her fate accepted..she would indeed fight him.. and go out honorably. Those same fingers she touched her forehead with, then her heart.. in a foreign but likely understandable motion of respect to one she considered greater than herself. She was looking directly at Renor at that moment.. offering him her last bit of respect. If she was leaving this life.. the thick shield she'd built to hide her inner being most of her life, was useless. Might as well share an instance of herself with the two people she knew best here.. and had forged.. what.. a bond? a link? It mattered not but that they knew she thought more of them than mere pawns in her drowishly devious mind.
" I am ready Renor. Name your conditions."

[22:38] Morrigan steps down the stairs, her eyes widening at Erel's shout. In a firm voice, she calls. "D'jal, fre'sla harl, Bihurr yourselves."

[22:46] Erel had just returned from the temple and had not expected to be tested on her new skills so soon, weak as they are. But if Shri was in danger...and in some way, Renor too, for he would likely be punished for killing her... then despite Shri's words she would do what she could. She hears the Yorn's command and hopes negotiation will win out, but just in case, she bends down and picks up three small pebbles from the ground.

[22:47] Renor isn't oblivious to the presence of the Yorn and fishdrow. Both with their respectful titles and positions. He just chose to ignore them. "We dual to the death." After she stated that he name his terms. Not advancing on her quite yet, taking a practice swing with his sword, her flesh may part as easily as the air does, given the condition of the blade coupled with his unrivaled skill. "I offer you the chance to yield. To accept, you must surrender both mind and body to me...uncondtionally and to no other." Some of the light which had been burning in his oddly tinted eyes had faded, like the calm before the storm. He appears at peace as he states his conditions for the dual. The winds began to shift though, as his armor clad form began to stride to the left, then back to the right. Each step rattling the mixture of plate and chain, in lieu of wardrums, the sound alone would suffice to ignite his battle lust. Unbidden, the pain of old wounds flares in his weathered form, a sure sign that battle

[22:47] Renor: was to be joined. He had felt it for several days now, a twinge in his hip, a burn in an arrow graze high on his thigh, he had attributed it to the peace meetings between the humans and elves. Obviously, he had mistaken those tell-tale signs.

[22:56] Morrigan strides forward, placing herself between Renor and Shri. Her blue eyes fix on his as she draws a deep breath. "I have no idea what is going on here, but you will both stand down. Now." She seethes with anger, though she fully expected Renor to disobey her.

[23:05] Erel hears Renor's terms, like some kind of sick and twisted marriage proposal. She guesses that Shri likely she will not consent and yield, from pride or honor, she will likely fight. Erel hopes the Yorn will be able to contain him, but she has never seen Renor so incensed. Erel swallows hard and takes a breath. Holding the pebbles in her hand, she prays in a soft voice, almost a whisper, "O Eiliestraee, Olath Wenress, ka ol tlu dosst orn, dumo nindolen khaliizin lu' areion uns'aa, kl'ae dosst yorn ulu sslig'ne nindol sargtlin." She is shocked and pleased to feel the small stones warm and crackle in her hand, like static electricity. She holds them down in her hand, ready to hurl them if necessary, though she hopes not to.

[23:17] Shri'lua'nea's eyes remained on Renor. She heard Morrigan.. but her mind was set. To waver was to act the craven coward.. a thing her pride would never let her do. Though by his deceit she was here, she recognized the fatal flaw she'd set in motion and the unraveling of her bargain with her weapon master. She accepted her part in it and slipped her dagger from its sheath. It was not one third of the length of Renor's sword. It was of simple carbon steel.. layered and folded and layered again in the drowish manner.. but it could not stand long against his fabulously expensive and seasons longsword To use her tiny dagger against it was suicide, in essence. To try with his hand at the hilt, near instant death even with her thirty paltry years of experience under her belt. all this had been calculated weeks ago.. when she'd seen his prowess against Khrone the Beast. As Morrigan stepped between them, she kept her gaze upon her teacher and nodded slightly. The tone she spoke in was quiet but dignified and indicated a

[23:17] Shri'lua'nea: woman of greater years than perhaps her mere on hundred and thirty might suggest..~or~ her random behavior of the last few days but what drow does not hide herself beneath layers of deceit and mirrors?" A quick but honorable death.. or Servitude you offer me. Body and mind. .. yet my pride is in my heart, Renor, what would you have with that? "Dropping her eyes from him, she took a deep breath. Submitting felt like murdering her soul.. especially doing so to escape death. Cowardly. "You offer me no choice at all. Had we discussed this before you corrupted my words into this false challenge of yours?? Perhaps I might have accepted. At least it would have been honestly given, not driven from me by a cowardly desire to escape my own mortality.. Now.. All I am left with is a death based upon pride and stupidity. And I ~will~ die, Renor, you know it as surely as I.

[23:25] Renor did not slow his pacing, nor interrupt her as she spoke. Instead, he listened, hearing each syllable plainly. Knowing full well that he had put her back to a wall of which there was no escaping. "Very well." The two words spoken plainly. "Stand aside Morrigan, this matter needs no further council. Or I -will- strike you down as well." At the very least, he would give Shri a quick death, he was eyeing the soft spot, just under her chin, she would bleed out quickly. A mercy killing. Pausing in his long strides to allow Morrigan the chance to step aside.

[23:26] Erel listens in horror at what she fears is the inevitable. Even if her paltry powers could distract, even if the Yorn could lock Renor in prison for a period, even if she herself should step between and throw herself upon the blade, it would only delay the inevitable. These two would find another way, another day to have this fight.

[23:30] Morrigan narrows her ice blue eyes, a scowl marring her dusky features. "Renor, dos er'griff add ulu l' list d' gragg'rethen a threatening uns'aa. Bihurr nindol nin," she says.

[23:37] Shri'lua'nea nodded quietly, then lifted her chin to offer small prayer to the only god she'd really ever found compatibility with. should any read ehr lips, perhaps they noted syllabls that seemed not unlike Ergosal. She had not much hope that her soul might be kept or ushered on to any sort of afterlife... she was female.. and he terribly unpredictable. Finally she stretched her shoulders back and echoed Renor's sentiments. " Yorn Morrigan.. please. Do stand aside. This will happen... " she fixed her eyes upon his torso as so many of her tutors, Renor included, had instructed.. and intended that she at least defend herself. Cut him if possible. And die. She nodded once more at Renor, signaling her final assent.

[23:40] Morrigan shakes her head, giving an exasperated sigh as she stalks off.

[23:48] Renor paid no heed to the retreating figure of Morrigan as she stalked off in her typically sullen manner. He shifted his footing to square off with Shir'lua'nea. Shame that it had come to this. Life as a slave, is still life. When word spread of Shri'lua'nea's refusal to surrender, her family name would be shamed for all time, since she is commiting suicide. Shame. Renor has no mercy though. Wielding the handaxe in his left hand and his sword in his right, he takes two long strides, then leaps forward to close the gap rapidly. His form, all sinew and wiry strength, move swith a blazing speed alarming to any who may witness the finesse with which he moves. His right arm is drawn back, gripping the handle of the blade loosely, as he had instructed Morrigan. His torso shifts at the last possible moment, as soon as she's within reach of his blade, his right arm whips around. The finely crafted adamantium blade leading the way, the very air it passes through whistles in admiration as the blade, wielded

[23:48] Renor: by the superior warrior sought to end Shri'lua'nea's life in the quickest way possible, to slice through the side of her throat, and cleanly out the other end.

[23:48] Erel shakes her head at the futility of the whole situation, the pebbles in her hand gone cold, knowing nothing they could do would stop the pair from fighting. She sees it almost in slow motion as Renor prepares to lunge, and Shri resigns herself to death. Her only friend... she is so overcome with emotion that tears fill her eyes and a lump forms in her throat, which surfaces as a song... a heartwrenching, hauntingly beautiful melody of mourning that she had sung before, in the past after her city and family were destroyed. The melody echoes through the chamber, reverberating and building. She closes her eyes, unable to watch.

[23:52] Renor s right hand goes numb, his fingers usually so nimble, able to thread several needles in unision and find the honey spot of any willing female, had failed him. The blade clattered as it hit the ground. Renor's momentum came to an abrupt stop, his form which had been streaking toward Shri'lua'nea with the grace of a predatory bird, became like a stone. Sinking straight to the ground. "What...what..." Stammered out as his form collapsed on the cold rough stone and he found, he could do nothing, could not push himself to his with his usual elasticity, could not budge a single part of his being, his mouth, moving silently had clamped shut, his jaw going rigid.

[23:55] Renor had never been raped, though he knew, that this is how it must be feel. To be completely powerless. At the mercy of a foe you couldn't stop. Witness to injustice upon yourself, yet incapable of vindicating one's self. He had been in this same position, countless times, and he knew what was coming. His killer's hands spread out of their own accord, the muscles in his arms bulging and trembling as he struggled to fight the sensation. As strong as he is, he is mere clay in the hands of something much stronger, something more sweet. His killer's hands were forced to spread onto the cold stone, his palms pressing downward, fingers splayed.

[23:58] Shri'lua'nea stepped back two paces as he rushed her way, sliding a foot to the side to wait his passing.. or cutting stroke. She raises both hands in a motion not unlike monks use when anticipating their opponents attack.. she was trained in a form of hand to hand.. occasionally paired with weapons. If she could manage to avoid his suprior slice, she might get in a swift kick to knee or even a kidney shot if, in the highly unlikely event that he passed her without swiveling on his axis. The lumbering fall.. was utterly unexpected.. Like a huge, ancient tree one had revered for years suddenly towering and falling amonst its smaller companions. there were no words that bubbled up.. just utter confusion. she remained in her figfhers stands.. following him with eyes and upraised hands.. until it became apparent something.. was utterly wrong. " Renor ??" she quavered.. her shock at the sight.. warrign with her adrenaline coursing through her system.

[23:58] Erel hears the clatter of the blade upon the floor, for a moment thinking it was steel upon steel, and refuses to look. She continues singing as if it is already Shri's funeral and she would see her spirit home. She opens her eyes, blurred with tears, cursing herself inwardly for her weakness and emotion, only to see a strange sight before her. Of course, she had not realized... Renor was male. The only male within earshot of her siren's song.

[0:02] Renor s teeth ground together as he felt himself being molded into a kneeling position. He had visited deserts in his travels upon the surface. Filled with believers who painted their faces and took their knees, touching their head to the ground in prayer to honor their deity, he's reminded of them as his form is molded into a kneeling position, bent double, his back straight as a board. Though he continued to fight, with all his considerable will, his whole body shuddered as he sought to regain some semblace of balance. Some semblance of -being-. He couldn't even utter the stream of curses that flitted through his head, his mouth, frozen shut. He felt his hair being pulled, his head being jerked backward, panting, fierce and laced with a growl erepted from between his lips, along with a shower of spit and blood. Still he fights, as the strain begins to wear at his well-maintained form, he fights the force pushing from behind for several long moments, beads of sweat breaking out along his brow, and over

[0:02] Renor: the back of his neck, he regains some control. The unuttered curses that whipped through his mind were uttered into a single howling bellow as his control broke and the stone floor loomed so much closer to his face, getting up close and personal with the ridged and unpolished stone. His face, wielded by some vengeful God by the look of the movement, smashes into the stone, there's an audible crack as his nose breaks, blood begins to pool on the floor.

[0:04] Shri'lua'nea stood utterly still.. and stared at what seemed a corpse to her. A step she made towards him.. then another. A strange sort of concern hit her for the man who had remorselessly been about to take her life. She had NO idea it was Erel's doing.. she was unprepared to think of anything but her own quick flight into spirit. she thought perhaps a stroke.. or heart attack.. or perhaps Ergosal had taken pity and removed his threat. A few more steps and she was upon him.. kneelign to touch him. Still thinking he as dead.. or very nearly so. Laying a hand to his back..she jumped and rushed to her feet at the wail that sounded from his chest. He was DEFINITEly alive." what the...??? " Her eyes widened and she could not take her eyes from off him.

[0:07] Renor s head is jerked upward once more, blood flowing from his mouth and shattered nose, mingled with the dust of many passersby. Then his face is smashed into the stone once more, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head, struggling to remain conscious as a third strike lands, the left side of his face caving in awkwardly as the cheekbone is shattered. Managing to gurgle out something unintelligible, which matched the glazed look in his eyes. It lasted a moment before his upper body, compelled by the siren's song, used his head to bang the drum, rapidly, five times in succession. After the third strike, one would note that his jaw was twisted sideways, the fourth, his eyes were closed, some good dead in a past life had allowed Renor to faint before the fifth and final strike, which split his forehead wide open.

[0:07] Erel 's mouth, her soul, continued the song, only now it was for Renor, realizing what she had done. It was just in its own way, for he had backed them into a corner, he and Shri, forcing upon them in his arrogance an ultimatum where one must surely die. But deep down she had liked Renor, too, and felt a sadness for their city, their drow clan, losing such a great warrior. 'You must kill someone to gain respect,' he had advised her, just days ago. And she had laughed at him.

[0:08] Renor s form gives one long shuddering exhale, that sounds as if air was being blown through a water pipe, a final shudder, and then lays still.

[0:10] Shri'lua'nea looked on in horror at what she still considered her weapons master.. still not comprehending what was going on.. until she finally looked Erel's way and noticed the concentration.. combined with her song. She shrieked out.. apparently too late and rushed Erel. It had been HER death.. HER honor.. and he was being smashed against the stone like a rag doll in a kid brothers malicious hands." NooooOOOOOO!!! EREL!!!!!! STOP!!!"

[0:12] Erel stopped singing in the middle of a word, as if waking from a trance. She looked up at Shri, tears streaming down her face. She realized of course, that if Shri truly loved Renor in some way, Shri would hate her now, for killing her lover. And even if not, Shri might hate her now, for stealing her kill, and wounding her pride. She had saved her friend, but either way, it was a bittersweet victory.

Free Drow Males

For far too long have the males of the Underdark lived SUPPRESSED and unfulfilling lives.

Raped by drow women, forced to bathe and dress them and fight their wars.

Enough is enough!

Today, we band together to free the males of the Underdark from their enslavement.

If you're scaaaared the matrons will find out, then we'll accept monetary donations in-world, paid to Jeff Steins.

If you're a proud and noble drow who wishes to put an end to this cycle of abuse, then please, comment on this blog, leave your secondlife name, if you wish to be added to the Million Drow March..once we gain enough support, we will march on the Underdark and release our brothers!

Journal Entry

I purchased this little tome, expecting to fill it.

The inquisitive drow has me thinking that I should record my history for at any time I could fall and none shall know.

Now, dear reader, you will be informed.

I swear my blade hand that everything accounted for is fact and should you feel that any aspect is false, feel free to challenge my sword hand so that I may show you proof positive.

I started my life as Renor. I don't know how the name was bestowed upon me, nor do I care to know. I was born and existed in the Underdark for many years.

Outside of typical drow society, amongst wayfarers and brigands. Not well known, this community occupied ancient drow and duergar cities, long abandoned to ruin. They didn't fight amongst themselves, their violence could only be purchased. Most often by the dorw rogues of the Bregan d'Aerthe.

This particular community had no name. Naming a thing makes it known. One does not need a name to be effective. The names of many warriors could link their history to this community and I am no different.

Reproduction was encouraged in this community. As the community found it's riches by those warriors they sold to drow houses and surfacers alike. Training was a time tested ritual, that I'm sure, still hasn't changed since my birth.

A child in this community is birth nearly once every week or two. It is nursed until it's able to walk and talk and eat regular food. Then the child is turned feral.

I and many others around the same age were set loose. Loose being a loose term. We were merely made to fend for ourselves. Hunt or gather our own food. Steal it if necessary. We were always watched but never aided. If a child died it was disposed of. After the savory pieces of meat were carved from the corpse. We were not allowed weapons yet. Sharp rocks, hand fashioned spears, and rudimentary ropes.

I remember tackling a giant lizard after banding together with many others in the same plight as myself. None of us past eight years, wielding tiny spears. Driven by hunger. However we brought the beast down and dined for weeks upon the flesh. It was the talk of the community for several days. I can say, without gloating, that the elders saw much in me after that instance. I was routinely singled out by the males in charge of us as keepers.

Let me explain a moment..there were leaders. There were keepers. There were females and males.

Keepers were usually old males, too old to be of use in battle and too battle scarred to turn the eye of females. They were used to train young drow. They were lower than snake shit to all but their pupils.

Females were rarely kept. Drow houses always wanted female children, so they were sold straight away. Many were allowed to stay but not enter into the training that the males underwent for they were only to remain in order to birth new life.

The leaders were mercenaries who had been bought and sold so many times that their price was simply too high. So they had amassed their fortunes and returned to lead the community. Usually running businesses of sorts. They held council and played everything close to their chests.

As I was writing, I was singled out by keepers often. Their only chance at glory was to produce the best warrior possible. So when a pupil, such as myself, displayed the skills necessary, they sought to teach him more. Often I would find my stance corrected, the tips of my handmade weapons sharpened professionally, or I was given tips on when rothe would be ripe for poaching. Such preferential treatment, put a mantle upon me, since others in the same plight would follow my lead.

It was not an easy childhood, in comparison to others, it'd be safe to assume that it was downright rotten. Many nights the only companion to follow me to bed was hunger. I grew lean and strong but always appeared underfed.

By the time the next stage of my childhood commenced I was wiry. Strong and fast on my feet. Merciless as well. I could wield rudimentary weapons as well as any hunter. I had learned to make clothes, bedding, and basic armor from my kills.

Such wouldn't serve me well in the next seven years of my life.

Renor

General Information

Known Alias - Renor Dro, Black Life, Renor d'Xukuth'el, Renor d'Unra'eth
Age - 211
Origins of Birth - Cloudy, first known habitation Menzobarranzan
Current Residence - Valahari, City of Unra'eth
Occupation - None
Former Occupation - Mercenary, Weapons Master

Appearance

Height - Short
Weight - Meager
Eye Color - Bloodshot
Hair Color - White
Clothing Preferences - Prefers comfort, usually adorned in a kilt.
Weapons - No less than two blades. Typically more.

History

You wish to know?

Why, who sent you?

Aye, I do reach for my blade and should you studder or mumble once in explaining your purpose, I will remove your fool tongue.

Very well, very well...you may have a seat. Order a bottle of wine and ask your questions.

I frequent the Cheeky Bastard often enough, yes. I enjoy losing myself amongst the crowd, apparently you found me.

I am the only Renor in Unra'eth or Valahari for that matter, as far as I know.

No, it's not likely we'll become friends. I may come to know you. May even come to know you well enough to hesitate a moment. Believe though, that if it serves a purpose, I will end you.

You still want to know more?

Very well.

I'm finished with the soldier's life, for the moment. That doesn't mean I've lain down the blade, that'd be just, silly. I feel the rigors of age so I've taken a step back, to live in the comfort of Unra'eth. I want for little and need less. A female to share my bed, a pipe filled to the brim with magic opium, and of course food and wine. All of which I come across here, which leaves me mildly indebted to the Ssivah and Shar.

Orders? Haha! I've never taken an order in my life. Directives, yes. Orders, no. There's a fine line between a directive and an order. The former requires compensation when the ends are met. The latter requires a flexible knee. Mine are much too stiff to bow to any.

Yes, my gratitude for the hospitality of Unra'eth makes it so I am more than willing to undertake directives from the Ssivah or Shar. They have earned my respect, for the time being. So I'm happy to contribute as often as needed, so long as the rewards are plentiful and the directives don't interfere with my routine so much, then you would say I'm a willing servant of Unra'eth. To the extent that, if something happens to the city, it is likely to effect me.

I've been on the surface for several years now. You're correct in assuming that I'm from the Underdark.

I never ventured into true drow society until after my blooding rite. There I was introduced into the Bregan d'Aerthe of Menzobarranzan.

Aye, the rogue males. I was born amongst a small city of drow living on the edge of Lloth's reach. The one real purpose of this community was to produce warriors. Who were then sold into the service of the drow mercenary house. Or if they should prove lacking in need of new mercenaries, any house who could handle the pricetag of a warrior drow trained from birth to end life.

Many years, I was with them for many, many years. I earned a small but considerable fortune as a mercenary. There are always wars amongst ourselves, or against outsiders. Always coin to be made.

No, you'd be wrong there. I did serve a Llothian. At one point. I was lured away and became Weapons Master of Xukuth'el. My time as a Llothian servant was very brief.

Then what? You'll have to wait for the auto biography.

I am here now, I was there. There is little chance that I would return.

Aye, slim pickings indeed. You'll have to buy me more wine next time, the bottle's empty, so my patience is at an end.