Cloak and Dagger in Westgate
A haunted and hunted soul, with a razor wit. Malaggar is staunch companion and a fearsome enemy. He always has at least the hint of a grin on his face, even when he is burning down a foe with dark magics. (Think Doc Holiday in black leather.)
I was born 57 years ago, in the Underdark City of Sschindylryn, in the Year of the Advancing Shadows, according to the calendar of the surface folk. Not so long ago by the standards of my people, but a long time to live in fear.
My earliest memories are of nightmares…I still remember them all, others tell me that they can barely remember their dreams, good or ill, moments after waking. It seems that I am different, especially from other drow. They are able to direct their dreams – their reverie – to happy or at least pleasing memories. All that I see in my nightly trance is blackness surrounded by the vague impressions of the waking world. That blackness for 10 horrific years of my early life was filled with fell visions and indescribable monsters. The worst of these would set me to wake screaming for hours.
Then I heard a whispering from beyond my nightmares. The voice(s) were nonsense at first, then as weeks went by, I could finally discern the speech in the whispers. The voice(s) offered me protection from my night terrors, and from the dangerous world around. It offered me power as I grew in stature and was able to bear them. The price…well, the price was nothing to a terrified ten-year-old drow. I accepted the terms of the entity that called itself the Lord of Nightmare.
Born into the high ranking House Oldymnae, I wanted for little, save friendship and affection. Additionally, I was lucky. After the bargain I struck with the Lord of Nightmare, the darkness seemed to become my friend. Shadows pooled about me when I wished to hide from a jealous sibling with a poisoned dagger. When my sisters would seek me out for their cruel attentions, shadows moving of their own accord would belie my ture movements and location. So it was until four years ago when I was forced to leave the relative safety of my House and the Underdark altogether.
My mother, the matron of the House, was poisoned and lay dead in the grand dining room of our manse. The ensuing months saw a power struggle erupt between my two oldest sisters for control of our House. My younger sister was murdered almost immediately, and my infant brother was sacrificed by one sister or the other to the Spider Queen for favor in the struggle. This left me in the unenviable position of youngest male in the house. I had recently become the object of some suspiscion due to my strengthening powers over the dark, but was able to avoid too much trouble be staying out of the way of my mother and sisters. With the demise of the matron, and the blazing feud now comsiming our house, I thought it best to leave…in haste. So I did.
I wandered the Underdark for a time, taking direction from the Lord of Nightmares when it was offered (almost always in the form of disturbing visions in blackness of my reverie), and eventually I exited a cave on the rocky shore of the Dragonreach. Thankfully it was night-time, though the Selune’s gaze was nearly enough to blind me. I followed the coast for several weeks, eventually coming to Westgate. When I arrived, I sneaked past the inattentive watch and into the city proper. Over the ensuing months I lived as a beggar and cutpurse, until I was spotted by Brenna. Well…actually I spotted her, an easy mark I thought – wrong. I found myself bleeding, and flat on my back with her small, but very sharp, dagger under my chin. She said that I had been disturbing certain parties under the protection of the Broken Blade. Once I explained my unfortunate circumstances (the abridged version of course), she said that she might know of someone who had work for me. “Honest work,” she said with a wry grin. The next day she told me to go meet with Seggroth at a nearby warehouse.
-more to come-