RAYVEN'S REIGN
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MP3: http://www.birp.fm/music/playlists/2014/january-2014/080%20-%20Hozier%20-%20Take%20Me%20To%20Church.mp3
Quote: Aut vincere aut mori.
Age: 352
Species/Custom Member Title: Drow Shade
GIF: http://i68.tinypic.com/3497v3p.jpg
Gif Alignment: center
Application: http://rayvensreign.com/index.php?showtopic=9
Plotter: http://rayvensreign.com/index.php?showtopic=113
Tracker: http://rayvensreign.com/index.php?showtopic=34
Gender/Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Pansexual
Relationship Status: Mated
Birthplace: Eryndlyn
Alias: Quinn
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Joined: 14-November 14
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Last Seen: Oct 16 2016, 08:57 PM
Local Time: Oct 18 2017, 06:39 PM
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Vexxis Kilvi'ir

Anti-Human

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Jul 23 2016, 05:11 PM
Things had never been simple for Vexxis Kilvi'ir, but he found himself truly tested serving under Rayven the Damned. Over a period of several years, he had risen through the ranks thanks to skill and more than a few friendly throats cut, but he was not satisfied. He would not be satisfied until he had the demon commander's full attention, and perhaps she knew that. He might have been imagining it, but he thought she seemed pleased whenever his ruthlessness cost her another follower and gained him another rank, but perhaps he was just projecting that feeling on her. He liked to think he could read people rather well, having gotten plenty of practice with sensing ulterior motives in the Underdark, but she was different somehow.

It was so difficult to tell, it was almost maddening.

The position of third was changing hands more often than any position he'd claimed thus far. One would almost assume it was not an ideal position to obtain due to its high mortality rate, but Vexxis had always been an ambitious man, which is part of the reason he had not gotten on well in the drow city of Eryndlyn. Ambition in males was strongly discouraged.

Still, despite his desires to yank this position out from under the insufferable orc that currently occupied Rayven's attention, he could never seem to get the man away from Rayven even for the half a second it would take to end his miserable life. He stalked the orc constantly like the shadow he was, and never once did the third in command notice he was being followed, but there was a reason he was third. He had a suspicious mind, even if he never saw who was vying for his position, he knew there would be an attempt soon.

Vexxis was less worried about the orc's skill at combat and more worried about making an impression. He wanted quick and silent. He didn't want Rayven to know that she would have a new third until the orc was already gone.

His opportunity arose in the face of one of the local majors stopping the orc in the hallways to ask for conformation on their most recent orders. Rayven continued on her path, rounding a corner, and as she did so a smirk twisted Vexxis's shadowy features. Before the orc could open his mouth to answer the major, Vexxis materialized behind him, drawing his blade clean across the third in command's throat. Dark blood sprayed across the major's shocked face as the orc sunk to his knees, grasping out the angry mouth Vexxis had created in his throat until he hadn't the strength even for that any more and he fell face first to the floor with a thud.

Grinning at the bloodied major, Vexxis held a long finger to his dark lips to silence the man before sheathing his blade and strutting off after Rayven. He rounded the corner and found her easily enough, as she was lounging against the wall not a foot away, gazing at him as if she'd expected him and not her third. This stopped him in his tracks momentarily before he continued the few steps toward her.

"It seems there has been another change in rank, jabbress, though it appears you were expecting this."
Nov 30 2015, 02:51 AM
[dohtml]<center><h1>Weapons</h1>

<h2>Arm Blades</h2>
<a href="http://i64.tinypic.com/214yu4k.jpg"><img src="http://i64.tinypic.com/214yu4k.jpg" width="400" alt="Computer Hope"></a>

<h2>Throwing Knives</2><BR>
<img src="http://i63.tinypic.com/2a9obdd.png">

<h2>Other</h2>
Retractable forearm blades, retractable boot blades, mini crossbow with knock-out poison tipped bolts.

<h1>Armour</h1>

<a href="http://i64.tinypic.com/2ive70k.jpg"><img src="http://i64.tinypic.com/2ive70k.jpg" width="400" alt="Computer Hope"></a></center>[/dohtml]
Nov 28 2015, 02:17 PM
They had a new commander in Moscow.

As third in command, with Rayven overseeing battle plans and Alexander overseeing Rayven, that left Vexxis to travel to Russia to meet this new commander and brief him. That, of course, left Relonithra on his own, but he had been a member of the Blood Soldiers for several months now and could be trusted for the most part. At least Vexxis was no longer expecting a stab in the back or a knock of the head, and now that Relonithra was marked he would no longer be able to make any attempts on any of their lives without having his own consumed in the process, which was a term Vexxis enjoyed reminding his brother of often.

The drow shade wasn't a fan of this mode of transportation, but he had little other option. Rayven had set him up on one of the Blood Soldiers' private jets that they kept for their less human-looking members to travel in, and while his comfort was seen to the entire flight, Vexxis didn't like the idea of being thousands of feet above the ground in a giant metal bird. Elevators were enough of a challenge. Still, he did was Rayven commanded, and now she commanded he take a plane to Moscow to meet with this new orc commander.

Vexxis knew of orcs. Rayven knew this, of course, yet she had insisted this one was "interesting". The last time he had met an orc in combat he had found the creature's technique lacking and predictable. Perhaps this Uriul would surprise him.

Moscow was not one of his favourite places, either. All the humans and densely-packed buildings of London plus freezing temperatures and snow to boot. London grew cold, but nothing like Moscow, and all his years on the service would never allow him to become accustomed to severe temperatures.

He arrived at the Moscow headquarters well after dark, entering unannounced. He had been expected, of course, and he was led directly to the new commander's quarters, where the orc would be found sitting cross legged in front of a dark altar. Blood libations filled bowls surrounding the shrine and jars of hearts either decorated the room or served to further pay tribute to this god. Vexxis remained quiet as the commander prayed, never one to interrupt ritual, for he knew how unkind gods could be when slighted.

Instead he waited, examining the hearts on the shelves and trying to decipher which belonged to which creature. He detected several human hearts, which pleased him.
Feb 3 2015, 08:14 PM
Continued from Sibling Rivalry

"Of course, jabbress," he replied, crossing an arm in front of him and bowing low at the waist before exiting. He found the giant of a wolf waiting in the hallway and grinned at him, though it was more of a sneer in his current mood. "You are up, kal'daka." The wolf pushed past him, clear in his distaste for the drow, and Vexxis thought to himself that the feeling was mutual. It struck him as he continued on his way through the complex that he rubbed quite a few people in this organization the wrong way. He wondered if perhaps they would like Relonithra better, but quickly wiped the thought from his mind lest he start dwelling on it and infuriate himself.

---

There were quicker ways for him to get to Alexander's study, but Vexxis chose to walk, thinking to take the time to clear his thoughts when in reality it simply gave him more time to stew and he arrived at Alex's office angrier than he had been when he'd left Rayven's presence. Ever mindful of personal privacy, he didn't not before entering, instead shifting to the shadows in mid-step and slipping under the crack of the door in front of him, reforming his physical body and completing that last step as he spoke, sounding as agitated as he felt.

"I require copious amounts of alcohol."
Feb 1 2015, 08:11 PM
This wasn't the first time Vexxis Kilvi'ir had been assigned to lead a scouting band to the surface. As it turned out, their shipment from the surface had been to blame, and his Matron Mother thought she knew who was behind it. Word had reached the city of Eryndlyn of a band of warrior wood elves camped close to the entrance to the Underdark. The entrance was a three and a half day trek through perilous caverns, but Vexxis, along with most of the members of his squad, knew the journey well by this point. He was the eldest of the troupe and commanded authority as the house's weapon's master. The rest of his troupe were students of his, all learning or having learned under him martial combat.

Normally this sort of excursion would have called for a wizard to tag along with them, but Vexxis's Matron Mother had assured him that her intelligence suggested a small band of elves, one that could handle perhaps a merchant caravan from the surface, but not a drow hunting party. "The would not expect a battle from this side so soon. They will be ill prepared." She would not, therefore, allow him unlimited resources for the task of wiping them out, but he would not make the mistake of underestimating the surface elves, so he brought only the best of his students with him.

The trek to the entrance was mostly uneventful. The drow hunting party moved silently, only communicating when they had to, and only then with the silent and intricate hand gestures and facial expressions that comprised their second language. The journey to the surface was just as crucial as the battle itself. At any point they could draw the attention of one of the innumerable deadly creatures of the Underdark, perhaps the most dangerous of these being another hunting party from another city. Vexxis was confident that his squad would see the surface, however, feeling a draw from something higher than himself. Hindsight now told him that it was Shar, not Lolth, who was drawing him in that direction.

A mile or so from the entrance, Vexxis had his squad make camp for the rest of the day and into the night, needing them at their best and knowing that the sun would be up at this hour. An ambush would not be possible if his entire squad was blinded from the moment the exited the caves.

Perhaps this was his first mistake.

The elves had expected an attack, and they had particularly expected one after the sun had gone down. Scouts in the upper portions of the caverns had reported back to the elves that there was indeed a drow hunting party headed in their direction, thirty strong... and outnumbered, two to one. If it was war the drow wanted, they would certainly get it, but they would not achieve the ambush they were planning. They were not the only creatures that could display cunning.

Vexxis had been assured, however, that the elves would not know they were coming. Unfortunately, their intelligence had been fabricated, and their whole plan of attack was based on the lie that the elves were few in number and ill prepared for an ambush. Vexxis does not know to this day how they managed to dupe his Matron Mother, or how they managed to scout out his hunting party without him noticing.

He and his team did everything right. They moved silently through the last yards of the cavern. The hoods on their piwafwis were up over white hair, granting them more stealth. So when they exited the caverns and arrows immediately rained down upon them from somewhere in the nearby woods, several of his men fell by his side, though most were able to react with enough speed to pull their piwafwis around them, blocking projectiles.

The Weapons's Master cursed loudly, yelling for his men to find cover, but the elves were already charging into the clearing, heavily armed and armoured. Thinking quickly, he threw an impenetrable globe of darkness directly in the centre of the clearing, and several of his students followed suit, creating a wall of darkness that the elves would have to charge through if they wanted to reach the drow.

"Go, but be silent," he ordered, jumping into the darkness himself. He had trained his students to use their other senses to fight when their sight failed them, just as he had been taught years ago, and that's what they did now. Sounds of combat rang out all around him, swords tearing through armour and flesh, but still he listened for the sound of a breath or of a foot falling on the earth. The sound of a sword whistling through the air nearby caused him to lift one of his blades high, blocking it and using the other to slice at what he assumed to be neck-level. His blade found purchase, and he felt blood splatter across his face.

The battle was not a pretty one. He heard his men falling one after the other, but for each drow that fell he knew two elves fell with them. The globes winked out one after the other, clearing the night sky until only his remained, and he dispelled, the moment of distraction allowing his attacker to land a blow across his fast, opening up two twin deep furrows, barely missing his eye. Vexxis hissed, attacking with a fury that eventually wore down the elven warrior until the drow was able to unleash a killing blow.

He stood there, breathing heavily, blood dripping into his eye and down his back from yet another series of wounds he had received earlier in the fight. His weapons were held loosely at his sides as he gazed around at the carnage among him with his one good eye, realizing he was the only one left standing. His students, every last one of them, lay dead at his feet, and he felt a rage growing inside him. They had been so young and so full of promise, and now they were dead. Someone would pay dearly for this.

---

He didn't go home. He wandered, seemingly aimlessly, but even though he didn't know where he was going, he felt as though there was someone guiding him. His legs moved of their own accord, and he did not concern himself with the blood flowing freely down his face and trickling down his back. The wounds, while open to infection, were otherwise inconsequential.

He didn't know how much time had past before he found himself standing before a temple. He recognized the banners as those of the goddess Selûne. His brow furrowed, questioning the urge he felt to enter the building. What did Selûne have to do with him? The Lady of Silver watched over Lycanthropes and female spellcasters, not wayward male drow warriors. Perhaps...

He stepped through the doors of the chapel, which were left unlocked to welcome travellers to stop for the night. He moved like a shadow, finding the sleeping courters of the priestesses. One by one, he approached their beds, slitting their throats before they could even know that death had visited them in their sleep. He didn't know why he did it. There was no cause for him to be so unnecessarily cruel, but he killed every last one of them all the same.

He stood in the centre of the room, looking over the quiet devastation he had wrought. Each bed was completely still, but other than that, no evidence that anything was amiss was immediately visible. These had been clean kills.

He turned to leave, but had barely taken one step when a shadow much darker than anything natural he had ever seen dove toward him, giving him no time to defend himself or move from the thing's path before it was entering his body through his mouth by force. He couldn't struggle, couldn't even move until the thing had completely disappeared inside of him, and then he fell, his arms crossing over his torso, hands clutching his ribs as he tried to catch his breath. The pain was excruciating, like nothing he'd ever felt before, but it past as quickly as it had appeared and he felt... different.

Slowly, deliberately, he pulled himself to his feet, lifting his hands to examine them as the shifted between his physical hands and incorporeal shadow. Divine intervention. He knew it instantly. Shar had chosen him to eliminate her nemesis sister's priestesses, and this was his reward.

---

Lolth was dead to him. House Kilvi'ir was dead to him. He had never felt so powerful. His gifts allowed him to rain devastation down upon entire villages. Word spread of a deadly shadow that left nothing but death in its wake. He left ghost towns in his wake, with no one left alive and no clue as to what manner of beast had created such chaos.

He was like a beast, feral and rabid and uncontrolled. The light of day maddened him, and even the light of the moon and the stars was enough to drive him insane.

A fortnight had passed and he still had not made any attempt to return home. There was nothing for him there but death. His entire squad was dead and rotting in the sunlight, and he was to blame. When House Kilvi'ir learned of his crimes, and learned that he yet lived, there would be no forgiveness.

It did not take them long to learn of his betrayal.

They found him, seeking shelter from the burning lights in the sky that tormented him day and night. Their wizard's magical light blinded him, leaving him prone, and the priestesses whipped him with their snake-headed lashes within an inch of his life. He thought that they would kill him then, but he was not to be allowed respite that easily. Their wizard approached him and began chanting over his immobile form. Blinding pain flared, though it was difficult to tell the origin of the pain. The wizard continued, apathetic to Vexxis's screams, and the unbearable torment continued, unrelenting.

He didn't know how long it lasted, or how long he had been left alone before he finally regained his bearings. Staring up at the ceiling of the cave he had chosen as his shelter, he exhaled a shaky breath. Cautiously, he rolled off of his shredded back and onto his side where he was able to get his arms under him to push himself up. On his feet, he stumbled, catching himself on the rock wall and remaining there for a few moments while the world caught up with him. In this time, he could only stare at the brilliant white markings that had bloomed over his torso and on his upper arms. They omitted a dull glow seemingly on their own, stinging his eyes.

He exhaled another shaky breath.

He knew these markings. He had never seen them in person, but all drow knew these markings. They were the markings of an exile. For his crimes, he was only allowed to return home under pain of death.

He truly felt like an animal then, trapped, though it seemed he was trapped within his own skin now. He could not hide from the sun and stars forever.
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