Current Character Description - Zeros do' Mtor
An elven figure stands before you, veiled forever in the shadows of drow skin. His body is six feet tall, topped with short hair as pale as bone. A long, hooded cloak is fastened about his neck with a small onyx rose. Its torn black fabric sometimes blowing in the wind. He wears a pair of leather bracers and a suit of drow chainmail, his strong legs protected by reinforced shinguards. In his hand he often carries a small book, its old jacket made of worn brown leather, its pages near cracking. His face, when seen from below the dark hood, was once useful.. but now, its dark flesh is scarred diagonally over the nose.
Current Character Description - Sharp Sorannon
An drow of slightly aged appearance. Dark skin, shiny and taught. White hair, whispy, ragged and tangled. A weathered face, sunken eyes reflecting a slight sadness. A mild aura of cheekiness, a grin that defies age. Low key garb of the shadowy kind, slinking in and out of unseen cracks and fissures without a sound. Ever looking around, surveying the area, this mischevious creature seems to fuel herself on nervous energy. A strange scar encircles her small throat, almost circumfrentially...
Current Character Description - Jackal
Jackal spent most of his life growing up on the streets of the docks district in Neverwinter. After spending most of his teenage years as a petty thug and mercenary for hire he came across a copy of the Cyrinishad one day and started reading it, suddenly the world started making sense now, he could understand why everyone he met seemed so stupid. Seeking out a way to bring the words of Cyric the One and All to the people. He sought out the Church of Strife, the highest authority when it comes to the word of Cyric Now he spends his days spreading the word of Cyric to the unenlightened, and cleansing the realms of the heretics.
Current Character Description - Wendy Wendelin
A peculiar woman in both appearance and attitude. She stands a tall 7 feet with a slight hunch in her posture, though she moves with an easy graceful gait. Blue and white tattered priestess robes are wrapped tightly around her shapely body. A film of dust coveres her skin, robes and feathered backpack. Her short spiky brown hair caked with dirt sticks out in every direction. Her face is tanned a light brown and betrays her youthfulness in its features. Through her bright mischevious yellow eyes a certain world-weary dullness can be seen. The corners of her lips are twitched up slightly in a permanent amused smirk. Her arms are also tanned and contained many battle scars from a previous life as a fighter. Forgotten religious writings are tattooed on the back of her hands. A gleam of blueish light occassionally passes over them and the symbol of Mystra that she wears proudly on her neck.
Regaining control
The lie shot Ruthivan's mind to the breaking point right then and there. But there was more - oh so much more. The hole went deeper still. She lied about going to see her mongrel children, lied about seeing that man who had taken her pure esper heritage from her. He forced her beneath him and conquered her. He then forbade her to see those other species she called children and exclusively forbade her to see Gilean. Then she said no.
Ruthivan grabbed Claire by the arm, his grip causing her to wince. She was his to command. His to control. He could only imagine Gilean had given her some sort of spine to stand up against what he wanted from her. He'd have to tear it out of her. When she started saying that she didn't love him, wanted to leave him, wanted to break their bond- Ruthivan saw red. No more so than when she'd admitted she'd rid her body of having children. She didn't want more children -with him.-
"Thank you for telling me," Ruthivan said, touching her stomach. "We'll get that fixed."
"You can't fix it," she'd said.
"We are creatures of magic. We can fix -anything.-" And disgust crept onto her face.
Ruthivan hadn't used his drugs in a long time. That was what made him special - he was his own chemist. Before, he'd helped espers escape by having concoctions that, when poured, would knock a man flat on his back at twelve paces. His most recent uses were to knock Claire on her back and force the bond upon her. Once he'd broken her, he'd had no need to do that. This, however, caused him to pull a vial from his bedside table. Before she even knew, she was half-intoxicated from inhaling his potion.
"Another thing," he said, half to himself. "That half-breed and his mother living behind us are in too close of proximity. They're leaving." He didn't care that it was his son, Askari living there too. The boy was dead to him. Claire looked up at him with hazy eyes. "But Gilean, they're our kids," and she passed out. Ruthivan flew into a silent rage.
Ruthivan grabbed Claire by the arm, his grip causing her to wince. She was his to command. His to control. He could only imagine Gilean had given her some sort of spine to stand up against what he wanted from her. He'd have to tear it out of her. When she started saying that she didn't love him, wanted to leave him, wanted to break their bond- Ruthivan saw red. No more so than when she'd admitted she'd rid her body of having children. She didn't want more children -with him.-
"Thank you for telling me," Ruthivan said, touching her stomach. "We'll get that fixed."
"You can't fix it," she'd said.
"We are creatures of magic. We can fix -anything.-" And disgust crept onto her face.
Ruthivan hadn't used his drugs in a long time. That was what made him special - he was his own chemist. Before, he'd helped espers escape by having concoctions that, when poured, would knock a man flat on his back at twelve paces. His most recent uses were to knock Claire on her back and force the bond upon her. Once he'd broken her, he'd had no need to do that. This, however, caused him to pull a vial from his bedside table. Before she even knew, she was half-intoxicated from inhaling his potion.
"Another thing," he said, half to himself. "That half-breed and his mother living behind us are in too close of proximity. They're leaving." He didn't care that it was his son, Askari living there too. The boy was dead to him. Claire looked up at him with hazy eyes. "But Gilean, they're our kids," and she passed out. Ruthivan flew into a silent rage.
Subservient, Obediant, Broken
Claire had seen Gilean exactly twice. The first time, he seemed lost, lonely in some strange way. That first time he questioned her about her relationship with Ruthivan. She'd been guarded. It was none of his business that her husband was controlling and obsessed. The second time she came after mirin told her about the three-way marriage. She came to look at his face because she couldn't fathom him being happy. He was defensive. This time, it was none of her business that he wanted Sanria all to himself but couldn't manage to fight off Colin. Exactly twice. And Ruthivan had been watching.
She came home after her second visit to Gilean and stayed out of sight. She quietly took stock of her life: four children with Ruthivan, a torn out uterus for birth control (Ruthivan felt it their sole duty to repopulate the entire realms to help the esper population rebound), a marriage she loathed, a bond to which she was a slave. She kept memories of Gilean close at hand- happy he'd found happiness, sad it wasn't with her. She pulled herself out of the thought. That time had long passed.
At last, she crept into the bedroom and slipped into bed - hoping Ruthivan had gone to sleep- but the speed with which he turned to face her let Claire know he'd been waiting. His eyes were dark rubies glittering hard. His face was pinched with anger and his voice, even his breath, trembled in rage. 'Where were you today?'
There was no love here. Before, he'd tried at least to teach her to love him. He let her decide on her own whether to stay or go. A very magnanimous gesture... only the already had a bond that linked them and children who needed them. She'd stayed. Slowly, though, his old self had returned. She belonged to him- property. She hadn't noticed how bad things were until they were so far gone she was beyond hope or help. She was neck deep in quicksand and still sinking. Now? She looked at the contorted face and as dispassionately as you please, lied. 'I went to see Mirin and Matinus.'
She came home after her second visit to Gilean and stayed out of sight. She quietly took stock of her life: four children with Ruthivan, a torn out uterus for birth control (Ruthivan felt it their sole duty to repopulate the entire realms to help the esper population rebound), a marriage she loathed, a bond to which she was a slave. She kept memories of Gilean close at hand- happy he'd found happiness, sad it wasn't with her. She pulled herself out of the thought. That time had long passed.
At last, she crept into the bedroom and slipped into bed - hoping Ruthivan had gone to sleep- but the speed with which he turned to face her let Claire know he'd been waiting. His eyes were dark rubies glittering hard. His face was pinched with anger and his voice, even his breath, trembled in rage. 'Where were you today?'
There was no love here. Before, he'd tried at least to teach her to love him. He let her decide on her own whether to stay or go. A very magnanimous gesture... only the already had a bond that linked them and children who needed them. She'd stayed. Slowly, though, his old self had returned. She belonged to him- property. She hadn't noticed how bad things were until they were so far gone she was beyond hope or help. She was neck deep in quicksand and still sinking. Now? She looked at the contorted face and as dispassionately as you please, lied. 'I went to see Mirin and Matinus.'
Settling into Understanding
Understandably, the tension in the cavern was thick in the air. Sanria knew things wouldn't be perfect and had anticipated much of the jealousy and slight rankling which pervaded the couple's... no... triple's home. She knew within only a few days that the frustration level was on it's way to terminal, and so she called a meeting. The three of them sat at the kitchen table - she and Colin on one side, Gilean on the other.
It had been rather quickly decided that neither man wanted the affection to stop, but couldn't seem to handle seeing the other the object of that affection. As the ironed out that wrinkle, Orn, in search of milk, came into the kitchen. Sanria's heart sank at the avoidance, Orn deftly kept his eyes averted, back turned. "Orn, do we make you uncomfortable?" she asked.
"It's just... weird," he replied. And weird it was. How was this to ever work if her own son couldn't handle it?
Sanria stared down at the table, barely noting Orn coming to her side.
"Oh Mom, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
"You are honest... that is a positive thing."
"No, I mean, I know things have been tough for you... for all of you. I'm happy you guys are happy, you know. Really, that's all I want, is to see you happy, Mom." The words were a light salve to the wound.
"Thank you, Orn." And she was rewarded with an embrace.
"I love you Mom, I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry about being honest, Orn. What feelings I feel because of it are my own."
Orn left and as though a spell had been cast, Colin relented. They made arrangements that were impossible only moments before - working out the arrival of the new baby with ease. Even when Gilean admitted his lack of prior parenting, Colin looked on him with understanding and compassion. Mirin arrived and in short order made apologies to her father for her own unkindnesses. Sanria would never have expected such a turning point in the midst of what started as potential tinderbox.
The final point, the spot where Sanria knew they were going to be okay, was when Colin rose, and left the room to let her talk to Gilean alone. They hadn't wanted one another alone with her since the Eosos side moved in. And now... Sanria's heart warmed. Certainly, things would still be difficult from time to time... but progress had come faster than she had anticipated, and everyone was settling into understanding.
It had been rather quickly decided that neither man wanted the affection to stop, but couldn't seem to handle seeing the other the object of that affection. As the ironed out that wrinkle, Orn, in search of milk, came into the kitchen. Sanria's heart sank at the avoidance, Orn deftly kept his eyes averted, back turned. "Orn, do we make you uncomfortable?" she asked.
"It's just... weird," he replied. And weird it was. How was this to ever work if her own son couldn't handle it?
Sanria stared down at the table, barely noting Orn coming to her side.
"Oh Mom, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
"You are honest... that is a positive thing."
"No, I mean, I know things have been tough for you... for all of you. I'm happy you guys are happy, you know. Really, that's all I want, is to see you happy, Mom." The words were a light salve to the wound.
"Thank you, Orn." And she was rewarded with an embrace.
"I love you Mom, I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry about being honest, Orn. What feelings I feel because of it are my own."
Orn left and as though a spell had been cast, Colin relented. They made arrangements that were impossible only moments before - working out the arrival of the new baby with ease. Even when Gilean admitted his lack of prior parenting, Colin looked on him with understanding and compassion. Mirin arrived and in short order made apologies to her father for her own unkindnesses. Sanria would never have expected such a turning point in the midst of what started as potential tinderbox.
The final point, the spot where Sanria knew they were going to be okay, was when Colin rose, and left the room to let her talk to Gilean alone. They hadn't wanted one another alone with her since the Eosos side moved in. And now... Sanria's heart warmed. Certainly, things would still be difficult from time to time... but progress had come faster than she had anticipated, and everyone was settling into understanding.
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