Drow
"Hey, Sol!" Auguste called out from the cart, "Laraine's almost done with dinner. You can take a break from watch, if you want?" Philippe watched his cousin ducked back under the curtained door, not waiting for Solonar to answer, and stretched his back. It made sense, unfortunately. Solonar was not the type for conversation, and was not the type to leave a task until its end. Even if said task was a four hour, solitary watch. Philippe sighed.
He returned, close to a minute later, carrying two bowls of venison stew. Without a word, he set one of them by Solonar's side, and padded back to his place by the campfire. The flames were, thankfully, finally start to calm from their merry crackle. He poked at the embers with a stick, and cleared his throat. Solonar shifted, hood still up, to look at him.
"Did you hear him? Eat. Larie will be upset if you do not." Laraine already was upset that the elf hadn't deemed it fit to grace her cooking area. Philippe had managed to calm her with the reminder that without Solonar, they wouldn't have the deer for their stew. She had still pouted, complaining bitterly about her swollen ankles, and the stench of the spices.
Such was their lot, for travelling with a woman nigh seven months' pregnant.
"You should not have made her cook." Solonar's voice was quiet, almost scratchy. Seeing as the elf hadn't spoken in a number of hours, the roughness made sense. The sound nearly made Philippe startle. It took him a moment to comprehend the other's words.
"She wanted to cook." That spawned a sniff from the other. Philippe continued. "It gave her something to do. We are stuck here until Auguste manages to fix the damn wheel spoke. It is better to let her think about measurements, than have her ruminate on how we are sitting ducks to any bandits that may deem fit to pass by, no?"
"That is why your brother hired me, no?" The other's voice was still firm, though there was something almost hinting toward humor in it. Philippe raised an eyebrow.
"One against multiple will not end well."
"Your kind do not see shit in the dark." Solonar's hand made an almost flippant gesture, almost akin to shrugging off the comment. The tenuous grasp of the other's knowledge of Florin was at odds with her accented voice; the coarse language that she had doubtlessly picked up guarding caravans juxtaposed against the almost melodious tilt to the words. Solonar didn't sound alike an Imperial, nor an elf of the Wild. Nor did she look like an Imperial, the few times she had been without her hood. But Philippe knew not to ask questions at this point. He startled, therefore, when Solonar spoke up without prompting.
"Laraine. When is she due?"
Philippe blinked for a moment, "Two months, or so, from now."
Solonar tilted her head to look at him. "We may still be on the road at that time." There was clear disapproval in her words. Which Philippe found himself half agreeing with.
"Delayed starts and shit bad luck tends to make disasters out of even discussed plans." He said, shrugging.
"Do any of you have the training necessary?" Again, there was an almost accusatory note to the question. Philippe, despite himself, despite his (albeit limited) knowledge of the other, felt himself bristling.
"No. We don't. We have to hope that one of the nearby villages we come across does." He looks down at his stew, biting at his spoon, "What's got you so riled, anyway? You've never deemed fit to query about her before."
"I am paid to care about her safety, but not her contentment." Solonar's tone was still accusatory, "But she was crouched behind the cart this afternoon, crying." Philippe felt his stomach drop. He swallowed, looking down at his dinner, feeling his appetite ebb.
"We are based out of Octave. A port." He says, his voice weak. "When the damn Terrors and raiders started making passes, both she and Auguste got scared. She said, 'Better to face bandits and deserters on the road with a guard, than to burn to death in my sleep'."
Solonar watched for a moment, before sighing. With another quick movement, an efficient pull of her hand, her hood came down, exposing youthful features and dark skin. Philippe had never seen her take the hood off in the day time.
"The desire for safety is understandable." She whispered. "Especially when under attack. Perhaps even more so when you are not only fending for your own life."
Philippe snorted, "Perhaps?"
Silence reigned for a moment. It was almost awkward, if Solonar had the ability to be so. "We have no young." Solonar's voice was final as she looked into the woods, away from the fire.
Philippe smiled, "Ah, yeah, I heard that elves and their ilk tended to have few children. The Imps like to stay in their jeweled city."
Solonar sniffed again, this time derogatory. She took a spoonful of her stew before replying. "Our bright, foolish cousins grow more mortal with each passing generation. The Moon is... more merciful, than to allow such to happen to her favored."
"Oh?"
"Our elven kinsmen putrefy, watching their children age and grow old before them before they, too, wither and die. We... do not. We have no children left." She shrugged, though there was a stilt to the words.
"I don't..." Philippe watched his companion, "I am afraid that I do not follow."
Solonar finally looked away from the woods, instead deeming to grace the sky with her gaze. "I am... I was... the youngest of my encampment, with only three others being within a century of my age. We do not grow old and frail, not as our golden relatives do, but we find it difficult to... continue. The Moon is gracious, but lonesome. To take her legacy, we were made to give her our own. She would not be able to shield us, guide us, otherwise."
"Ah. I see." Philippe felt himself floundering. He shifted, taking a spoonful of soup. Silence filled the muddy, damp clearing that the group had managed to drag the cart into. He did not have anything to say.. No words of comfort would ring true. What would an offer of comfort, of companionship, of a place to stand even mean to someone who would live for centuries? Would a reassurance of weeks, of months, of years spent in company mean anything against the weight of decades?
Perhaps, he supposed. But perhaps not.
So, instead, he sat beside Solonar, bowl empty, taking in the clouded sky.
Naming Traditions
Feminine names
Female Names: Akordia, Balaena, Csirrar, Khalazza, Seerear, and Sabrae
Masculine names
Male Names: Belgoth, Callim, Kyorlim, Orgoloth, Sabal, and Yuimme
Unisex names
Gender Neutral Names: Melarn, Voern, Xune, Ristel and Olorae
Family names
The Drow that wander the plane of Orbem do not have family names. They are the Lost, the Forgotten, the Willful Ghosts. All of their names, and the names of their ancestors are struck from their people's records.
The few that still reside together in encampments and enclaves, and follow in the will of the Queen of Air and Darkness, Destra, tend to follow the Wood Elven trend of taking the name of their settlement as their own. These settlements, however, have their roots in the names of settlements of the Dreamland.
Other names
There are two types of names in Drow Society. There is the name that a youth is given by their parents. The second is their true name, which is granted to them at the time that they reach adulthood. This name is said to be gifted unto them by the Fey Queen, Destra, in response to them submitting their 'fire' unto her will. Until they do so, she keeps this name, this knowledge, to her own quiet wisdom. For the Drows' ancestors gave it as a price for their safety, for power to fend against the Jotnar; it is a prize to be returned at Her will.
Drow typically go by an amalgamation of these two names, unless they do not submit to the Queen, at which point, they rebelliously keep their child name.
Culture
Major language groups and dialects
The Drow communicate in two languages. The first is a dialect of Sylvan, having been their native tongue in the Dreamlands. It has, however, progressed and morphed slightly as the centuries have progressed. While it is still understandable to those who know Sylvan, it is more guttural. They also communicate via a sign language that they created during their enslavement by the Jötnar, and continued to use during the frantic, perilous time time after, when they were fighting with their former captors. The continue to utilize the sign language when scouting out the tunnels and caverns underneath the earth.
The Lost can pick up Imperial Common with relative ease, though many dislike speaking it, given its Jötnar roots.
Culture and cultural heritage
The Drow were once the Eladrin, like the rest of the Elves. They lived with their brethren in the Dreamland, in peace. When the Jötunn came, the giants brought violence, death, and ruthless cunning, which the Eladrin had been told to shun by the Gods that had made the Dreamland for them. The Eladrin fell quickly. The Jötunn took the Eladrin, and bound them with their true names into servitude. In desperation, select groups of Eladrin reached out to members of the Fey Courts, hoping for mercy and aid. Those that managed to reach Summer Courts were accepted, granted access to the Realms beneath the Hills of the Dreamland. For the Queen and King of the Courts were kinder souls, who disliked the destruction that the Jötunn wrought.
There were those, however, that were unable to reach the circles and swept steps that marked the entrances to the Seelie Courts. There were those that were unable to evade capture. There were those who attempted to fight back, though they knew such attempts to be futile. There were those who fell to the Jötunn. There was anger. There was despair. There was desperation.
There were those whom the giants captured, who, upon seeing their fate before them, reached out for any powers that would aid them. They reached out, calling for anyone with the capability to protect them from the binding magics that the giants' cast readily. Such it was that a select group of Eladrin submitted themselves with the Queen of Air, the Queen of the Winter Courts, begging her to protect them from the oncoming force. Destra did so, albeit in a manner that none of the Eladrin thought possible.
They were still taken. Still forced to bow to the Jötnar force. But Destra took the names of the Eladrins' souls and with them, an aspect of their power. The remnants of the fire that they had submitted to the gods to keep. In its place, for reasons unknown, she placed her own magic. A shadow of her remaining will, that she had kept from her bargain with the Gods. Though they did not ask for such a boon, the Eladrin that she had protected retained their connection to her, even as they were ripped away from the Dreamland. Unlike the predecessors of the High and Wood elves, these elven ancestors remained connected to the innate magic of the Dreamland, and remained in control of their actions once they reached the plane of Orbem. As such, many of them fled their giant captors, scattering to the reaches of the earth. Many took to underground crevices, hiding in the ruins and outcrops of the falling Dwarven Empire. From these locations, the Drow attacked their giant slavers, skirmishing and striking when they could. Untold numbers perished during these attacks. Many mountain passes toward the north are haunted with their screams and despair. It was in these ruins, however, that the survivors remained, even after the Jötunn left the plane.
The majority of Drow still give thanks to Destra for her played part, though they remained bound to her. In such, their submission is a potent mixture of tradition and enforced subservience. It is unknown why the Queen of Air gave as much of herself as she did to those who begged for her aid. She twisted their magic with her own, intermixing the two, while shielding both their names and minds. This direct connection, contrasted with her limited power and her fear of releasing the Drow, is thought to be what has led to the race stagnating in numbers as years progress. She does, however, seem to still attempt to maintain a connection with those precious few that still remain. She remains both benevolent, and merciful, in their tales.
Shared customary codes and values
The Drow are those whose pasts have been marked by struggle and conflict. Unlike their bright cousins, they do not forget the harms that they have suffered. They do not forgive those who stole them away, for there are still those among them who are stated to remember the conflict. They train, and ready their blades to protect the new homes that the consider temporary. They, like their Wood Elven kinsmen, search for a means to return to the Dreamland, taking often to the tunnels and caverns beneath the world above to find what others cannot. They cross blades with the creatures, both natural and not, that reside there, and continue their search for a way to return to the world taken from them. The Drow reward fearlessness, tradition, and sacrifice. They are stalwart, and protective of their own. What few remain.
The Drow also hold their Queen of Air and Darkness to high regard. They treat her as the other races do the Lords of Good. They keep her as a their patron deity, despite her diminished power when compared to the Gods that created their world. She was the one who saved them from the Jötnar, when the other Gods did nothing. They hold that their Queen of Air and Darkness, Destra, is a merciful goddess. They argue that she is a benevolent being, who granted them fractions of her own power to protect their minds and souls. But they also remember the sacrifice both she and they made in forming that pact. Few Drow children have been born in the centuries that they have walked the plane of Orbem. This number only further dwindles as they continue to exist on a plane upon which they are not meant to walk. The lack of Drow children causes the Drow to be incredibly protective of the few youths that they still. Despite their love and fear, these precious few have begun to chaff against the will of their elders and their traditions with increasing frequency.
A Rendition of the Queen of Air and Darkness, Destra, The One Who Listened
Common Dress code
It is common for Drow to garb themselves in darker colorations, to better blend in with the dark environments that they inhabit. Drow are also one of the few races that are known to wear and craft shadowsilk commonly, with its creation being a closely guarded secret amongst the traders and merchants that know it.
It is also common for Drow to wear clothes that contain spider or webbing motifs. The Queen of Air and Darkness's favored animal was known to be a spider, and many artistic depictions of her typically highlight this connection. Many of the encampment or enclave matriarchs wear broaches or jewelry highlighting the connection that they have to Destra.
The Lost, on the other hand, tend to shun such depictions and fashions, instead traveling in grays and muted greens, to better disguise themselves in the foliage of the outside world.
Coming of Age Rites
When a Drow youth reaches their majority, they are bidden to undergo a ritual called "The Naming". The Naming is a ceremony where they are gifted with their true name by the Fey Queen, Destra. In response to this gift, and her safe-keeping of it, the Drow youth are meant to swear fealty to the Queen of Air and Darkness. With this oath, they submit and aspect of their 'fire' and soul unto her will, binding themselves to her. It is unknown what the Unseelie Queen plans to do with such power, or if those whom submit to her actually lose an aspect of themselves to her in the process. It is thought that those who undergo the ritual have a stronger connection to their innate magical abilities, though such has not been truly confirmed.
Common Taboos
To refuse the Naming ritual is to refuse the price that one's ancestor paid. It goes against not only on their sacrifice, but effectively severs you from your true name, willingly placing you in the same position as those who lose their minds and wills to the Jötunns' magic. Some, however, willingly do so, unwilling to accept the Queen of Air and Darkness's dominion over them. They turn away from those that raised them, and take to the outside world. Those who forfeit all that they have been raised to become are titled the Willing Ghosts, The Lost, and are shunned from any Drow Society. Their names are not spoken in the encampment, and they are supposed to be treated as if they never existed.
Ideals
Beauty Ideals
As a whole, the drow race has been warped by their connection with the Queen of Air and Darkness. Once blond or brown hair was bleached to snowy white, and their skin tinted to gray or even purple. Their time hiding in the rocky tombs and fortresses of the Dwarves enhanced their ability to see in the dark, draining the colors from their irises. Though the beauty of the Eladrin remains, the Drow's appearance has shifted far away from their original roots.
Some drow favor their novel looks, while others shy away from them. The Exiles tend to try to distance themselves from their distinctive appearance. Many exiles shave their heads, or pierce their skin. Tattoos and illusory magic are often commonly used amongst them, not for disguise but for comfort.
A Portrait of a Drow Exile, Solonar
Gender Ideals
The Drow from the encampments and enclaves tend to favor female leadership. Destra tended to respond to women's calls when the Drows' ancestors first pleaded for her aid, and this favoritism only continued once the Eladrin entered the plane of Orbem. Women who utilized their magic after calling upon the aid of Destra typically found their magic to be stronger than those of their male counterparts. While such is not uniform, and there are both male mages and female warriors, it is more common to find matriarchs leading the few remaining bastions of the Drow. It is unknown why Destra seemed to favor women over men, though it can be assumed, at least partly, she saw them to be closer to her own image and ideals. While there is a slight leadership imbalance between the two genders, both are expected to be competent at defending their homes. Both genders train with weapons and any magical capabilities they may have from a young age.
To those who have left the Drow enclaves, however, equality among the race is typical. It is rare for Drow exiles to find each other in the world, and the few that are lucky enough to,attempt to stay together. They try to make equal decisions, and protect one another on the unknown paths that they walk. While Drow familial groups are almost unheard of outside of encampments, the few that adopt children of other races tend to view their partners as equals, regardless of gender.
Courtship Ideals
Like their elven kinsmen, Drow relationships are slow to form, often taking decades to form into a close partnership. Once such a pair is formed, however, the couple is typically loathe to be parted from each other. It is very rare to find Drow couples that are separated by means other than death. Many of the Drows' happier stories and legends center around separated couples, ripped apart from each other due to the Jotnar, or escape from said captors, fighting desperately to reunite with one another despite all odds.
Drow are also incredibly focused on familial obligation and tradition, more so than their High Elven counterparts. It is often typical to have a Drow approach the family of an intended partner first, seeking their approval before initiating their courtship. They often bring gifts, trophies, or items of worth to signify their ability to support their intended. Only once they have garnered the family's approval, should they approach their potential partner to initiate a partnership. This has, however, sparked minor disagreements among the few youth that remain, and is one of the more typical reasons for Drow to walk away from their homes and villages.
Relationship Ideals
Drows' view relationships as close and intimate expressions of trust. Unlike their other elven brethren, who value stability and balance as most important in their partnerships, Drow relationships are typically emotionally-driven endeavors. They do not shun passion, and tend to form both deeply emotional and intimate bonds with their lovers. Many Drow pairs tend to train and fight together, if one of them was a warrior before the relationship's start.
This deeply emotional partnerships become tangled when shorter lived races are involved. Most typically seen with the The Lost, it is not uncommon for a Drow to take a romantic partner in a non-Drow. It is common, however, for them to take partners relatively soon after one dies. Some view this as a, perhaps unconscious, attempt on the Drow's part to ensure they will not be alone. Other Exiles refuse, as a whole, to take any romantic partners.
Parent ethnicities
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