Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

[Drayden Calamyr]

---

I was amazing how pitiful an orc truly was. Especially when this poor fool found himself at the end of a Drow blade. He and his two allies were dead, they fought bravely but they knew their fate when they saw the red eyes beneath the hood of their singular opponent. Barely a few minutes later, he stood over their crumpled corpses, surveying his work. The two on either side of him were barely recognizable, their features burnt away by magical fire and energy. The one Drayden presumed to be the leader was under his boot now, with the Drow's kryss stabbed through the opening in his helmet.
He wrenched and pulled, but could not seem to wrench the blade from the last kill. With a growl he stomped on the orc's head as he pulled up on his weapon, finally losing the blade from it's most recent kill. Orc gore spilled into the air, staning his clothing.
Blast, I'm going to have to burn these clothes now. The stink never goes away.
Drayden turned and walked inside of his newly erected home. It wasn't as large as some of the others, but it was secluded enough and there was plenty of entertainment should he desire to loose his anger on the Orcs that seemed to call this desert home. He doubted that would last.
This new home was barely a lot with four walls, but it was safe and isolated. As he entered, he stopped. His mind going from the present to a time past and forgotten....
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The night was late, fires burned in the distance. Drayden could see the glow in the sky from the trees he had set ablaze. The Order...what worked on other humans as a fear tactic seemed only to infuriate this Dark Order more. Drayden could hear the sounds of battle from Minoc....he saw dark riders riding there from Vesper. The war of Minoc. A time when the imperialistic Humans desired to rule all of Felucca. He didn't go to Minoc to assist the brave, yet foolish Warden of the North. The Warden's tactics did not mirror his own. The Warden wouldn't burn down a forest near his enemies' stronghold. The Warden wasn't a Drow.

It was as he rode alone that evening that they came. Silent, deadly. Nearly a score of them came to him that night and dragged him into the depths below. Home.

Drayden could recall several days of pain and suffering as they prodded and tortured him. Demanding him to divulge information about his friends on the surface. No one lasts forever, and he told them everything he knew of the surface. Only then, did he find an end to the most horrible pains he had felt in his long life.

Not more than a week after he had been taken it seemed as if he was becoming stronger, his vision was perfect in the pitch darkness of the Underdark. He felt...whole again. His captors took nothing from him but the love he once held for a life that now was past. In that empty hole within his heart and mind, all that remained was hatred. Hatred for those who had betrayed his trust. Hatred for the humans who had stolen his lover from him. They had stolen all those who he had called friend.

There was only one who spoke to him during the first few months of his capture. An old male Drow, he gave no name other than the name Sirah.
Those first words that were spoken would never be forgotten.
"Do you see Calamyr? They are done with you... You gave the short lived humans all the patience, all of the devotion that you have denied your own kind. We have watched you wrap yourself in their politics. Their silly little games."
The old drow walked closer, looking directly into his eyes. "You ARE Drow Calamyr!" A heavy fist slammed into Drayden's face, a strike that seemed almost unnatural. " You cannot play with the humans and the elves of light! They will NEVER see you as one of them. Because you are borne of chaos, you are from the Night Below. To them you will always be a black skinned elf from the deep. Why do you lie about what you are!!??" Again the hand struck him in the face again, this time it was enough to knock him and his flimsy chair to the ground. He could not answer...but Drayden understood every word.
"You are a disgrace to us...to me" The dark robed Drow spit on Drayden hen, and kicked him heavily in the gut, blasting the wind from his body and bringing darkness....
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drayden opened his eyes and looked around the empty room. He knew now....he truly understood that this was simply who and what he was. Drayden had tried to be what his human friends wanted. A good black skinned elf. But that was simply a lie to everyone.

Drayden looked then to the window and out over the desert night. One voice echoed from his reverie in his mind...
You are Drow.....