The Drow, the Cursed Fae
Imdaer observed the crowded marketplace with a critical eye. A slow smile spread across his face as he recognized his quarry and set off in hot pursuit. It had only been five years since Imdaer had left his home of Xenatarinan and emerged onto the surface. Five years of painful squinted eyes, splitting headaches, and burnt exposed skin. He had adjusted now, and could hardly imagine how some Drow had chosen this life long ago and remained her with their lineage. The Sunwalkers who had left their kin were tabboo topic in The Black Warrens that was best left avoided if one was to avoid invoking the wrath of the matriarchy.
Imdaer sped his progress, pursuing his target by ducking and weaving through the crowd with all the practiced grace of a lifelong thief and the agility of a panther. He could see the girl more clearly now, blond hair bouncing about her shoulders and heavy coin purse sagging at her waist. He was so close, just a few more steps.
A hand snagged his wrist right before it touched the purse. He glanced up to see his sister, Faerial, staring at him with malice and venom in her eyes. The target, the daughter of Exarch Valens Aulus, the Red Lion of Praetor slipped away before his eyes, never noticing his presence.
He snapped his hand away from Faerial and stared at her in defiance. "What do you think you're doing. That was my mark and would have bought us food for the next six months."
Faerial stared at him, breathing heavily, before willing herself to calm. "What have I told you about stealing? Do you wish to worsen the name of the Drow more than it has already been soiled?"
Imdaer scoffed. "More than it's been soiled? More than it's been soiled! There's no recovery from the way they see us, Faerial. They don't care what we are as long as we can be the target of every theft, every crime, every wrongdoing. Those bastard Sun Elves made sure the world was against us before we even arrived here."
"Does that mean we should do everything we can to prove them right?"
"I have every right to survive, Faerial. I have every right to exist in this world. They . . . Won't . . . Let us. Why can't you see that?! Behaving won't change anything, it will just get us stepped on."
"Maybe you could just try, even for a day."
Imdaer leveled his gaze at her, staring her down as people jostled and bustled around them. How could she be so naïve? How could she cling so desperately to such foolish ideals after what had happened to mother and father? Imdaer scoffed and shouldered past her. "You call yourself the eldest, claim you're meant to take care of us, but you don't take care of us, do you? I do that. And I do it by stealing."
"We can do so much more, Imdaer. Maybe if we just tried . . . " Faerial whispered behind his back.
Imdaer sped his progress, pursuing his target by ducking and weaving through the crowd with all the practiced grace of a lifelong thief and the agility of a panther. He could see the girl more clearly now, blond hair bouncing about her shoulders and heavy coin purse sagging at her waist. He was so close, just a few more steps.
A hand snagged his wrist right before it touched the purse. He glanced up to see his sister, Faerial, staring at him with malice and venom in her eyes. The target, the daughter of Exarch Valens Aulus, the Red Lion of Praetor slipped away before his eyes, never noticing his presence.
He snapped his hand away from Faerial and stared at her in defiance. "What do you think you're doing. That was my mark and would have bought us food for the next six months."
Faerial stared at him, breathing heavily, before willing herself to calm. "What have I told you about stealing? Do you wish to worsen the name of the Drow more than it has already been soiled?"
Imdaer scoffed. "More than it's been soiled? More than it's been soiled! There's no recovery from the way they see us, Faerial. They don't care what we are as long as we can be the target of every theft, every crime, every wrongdoing. Those bastard Sun Elves made sure the world was against us before we even arrived here."
"Does that mean we should do everything we can to prove them right?"
"I have every right to survive, Faerial. I have every right to exist in this world. They . . . Won't . . . Let us. Why can't you see that?! Behaving won't change anything, it will just get us stepped on."
"Maybe you could just try, even for a day."
Imdaer leveled his gaze at her, staring her down as people jostled and bustled around them. How could she be so naïve? How could she cling so desperately to such foolish ideals after what had happened to mother and father? Imdaer scoffed and shouldered past her. "You call yourself the eldest, claim you're meant to take care of us, but you don't take care of us, do you? I do that. And I do it by stealing."
"We can do so much more, Imdaer. Maybe if we just tried . . . " Faerial whispered behind his back.
Additional Information
Social Structure
The Drow society is primarily matriarchal. Women lead the families and rule over society while men are often seen as the "doers" of the society, leading the military and engaging in architectural projects or labor projects.
Perception and Sensory Capabilities
- Some drow have also begun to display a connection to a technique that The Pale Blade have called, the Mental Blade.
Civilization and Culture
Culture and Cultural Heritage
Drow are often viewed as strange and alien people. It is for this purpose, and due to propaganda from the Sun Elves, that they are often seen thieves in the night and assassins with hidden blades. Because of this long standing stereotype, Drow often find themselves wronged by those with such assumptions.
Common Myths and Legends
Per Elven mythology and stories, the Drow were born from the shadows of the Sun Elves. Many Drow reject this story as it suggests a subservience, but the story goes as follows:
When the Sun Elves (High Elves) first began to walk the lands of Raef they noticed that their shadows always followed close behind them, watching their every move and learning as a perfect mirror and copy. The Sun Elves at first feared, and their greatest shamans and mages came together to figure out how to separate shadow from elf. Eventually, with time, they succeeded and the shadows of the Sun Elves stood and took shape as a darker copy of their other self. They could speak, read, and write and the Sun Elves grew fearful. So, they used their great magic to cast the Drow down and into the Black Warrens where they could live as part of the shadows once again. It is for this reason that Sun Elves and Drow have no shadows and that the Drow have lived and remained in the Black Warrens, fearing both the sunlight and the Sun Elves ever since.
When the Sun Elves (High Elves) first began to walk the lands of Raef they noticed that their shadows always followed close behind them, watching their every move and learning as a perfect mirror and copy. The Sun Elves at first feared, and their greatest shamans and mages came together to figure out how to separate shadow from elf. Eventually, with time, they succeeded and the shadows of the Sun Elves stood and took shape as a darker copy of their other self. They could speak, read, and write and the Sun Elves grew fearful. So, they used their great magic to cast the Drow down and into the Black Warrens where they could live as part of the shadows once again. It is for this reason that Sun Elves and Drow have no shadows and that the Drow have lived and remained in the Black Warrens, fearing both the sunlight and the Sun Elves ever since.
Lifespan
500 years
Average Height
6 ft
Average Weight
150 lbs
Body Tint, Colouring and Marking
Every drow has a tattoo on their chest that shows their station and rank in society. If a drow goes up in rank, their tattoo is adjusted accordingly. If they descend in rank it is adjusted similarly.
Geographic Distribution
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