Post by Maereth Selakiir on May 11, 2014 13:29:38 GMT -5
Far beneath the surface of Kir’Viir, the Kingdom of the Elves, Fil’mur’ss was born to Matron Godendar of the House of the same name. The Firstborn to the sole Matron Mother remaining within the long-forgotten outpost. The many centuries of separation from the kingdoms where the majority of Drow that held on to kingdoms across an ocean. As devotees of Inid, God of Deception among the Drow, the Matron and her underlings alike could not pass up the opportunity that the birth of a Szarkai presented unto them. His rearing included all that was typical for young drow and more in order to groom the Albino into the perfect spy to send out among the elves that occupied the surface of Kir’Viir.
By his thirty-fifth year of existence Fil’mur’ss and his considerable talent for the arcane was natured within the House rather than outside of it. After all.. the outpost lacked an academy of its own and the more independent magi in their tower could not be trusted with his education. It did not take long for the young Szarkai to discover a preference for two very different schools of magic: Illusion and Necromancy. Easily taken as a sign of favor of Inid for the boy his training took great focus on these at detrimental exclusion more bolstering and utility forms of magic.
Fil’mur’ss spent the next two decades solely on his studies of magic.. to the point that his interests began to diverge from what his instructor was demanded to teach. This divergent path led all too soon to near-death for the Szarkai. Hardly the negative experience one might presume.. he felt enlightened and exhilaration in the wake of it.. his head filled with the Song of his very Blood! With more glee than terror he undertook self-education of this mysterious branch of the arcane that he’d stumbled upon.
With the incident of his near-death thoroughly hidden by his Instructor he was free to continue his studies to their logical end. A practical test to infiltrate the society of his surface cousins. A feat more easily said than done even for the Pale skinned and Blue-eyed Fil’mur’ss. Left to construct his own false identity he poured through tomes filled with the drow-centric history of the ‘separation’ from the surface and the elves that had remained there. Eventually compiling the alter-ego of Maereth Selakiir. Submission of this compilation to both his Instructor and the Matron earned Fil’mur’ss immediate expulsion from the subterranean outpost.
Equal parts ‘Maereth’ and his instructor’s plan.. it had been decided to clad the Szarkai youth in attire taken from an elven wizard that had been murdered during a raid and leave him behind during another such raid..bleeding from a wound inflicted by a drow-crafted blade. It did not take long for the patrol of elves both curious and wary to discover the results of the raid and the lone ‘victim’ left behind. As Maereth and the masterminds of the plan had thought.. the elves quickly accepted him as one of their own. Wounds over his eyes allowed avoiding the nuisance of sunlight on his eyes as long as they remained bandaged by the choice of elven healers.
The recovering Arcanist was eventually brought along by the patrol to the capital of Kir’viir, Arhylle in order to have a comfortable place in order to rest and recover from his ordeal. It was during this time that worked out the means to rid himself of immediate superiors among both his House and those against them. Towards these ends a tale was woven, one the elves were all too quick to believe. Though his tale did not provide information of an extent that it could be pieced together that his identity was a fallacy.. what was given proved enough to lead the elves to their eventual decision to collapse the tunnels and more through alchemical and magical means alike!
In the wake of this grand betrayal of his own House and People came the first whispers of the Divine into his mind. The entity spoke in dual-voices.. one masculine and very remicescent of the drow while the other was accented by tones he did not recognize.. though were very much feminine. The praise of his talent and his betrayal spoke volumes providing the hint of what he was being contacted by.. Inid, the Drow God of Betrayal, Deception, and Lies! Or perhaps.. two faces of the God he knew of as Inid? Only whispers of a more feminine name came with the voices, Misha.
As his actions removed any necessity of mission Maereth chose to use his time within the capital wisely. There was magic aplenty to be learned from the hated surface elves. Though his own hatred of them was hardly a great and loathing sort. It was under the tutelage of a weak link within the city, a half-elven Wizard by the name of Alxiron, that Maereth procured more diabolical knowledge than the abyssal ties of the divine his own people favored all too often. Through careful instruction of the half-breed Diabolist Maereth extended his arcane studies once more – beginning with the binding and summoning of a loyal servant, an Imp native to the Nine Hells.
The Imp, a more mischievous specimen than he’d have thought given the orderly terms his mentor had suggested the devils held fervently onto due to their very nature, gave his name as short as possible no doubt a trick to keep from giving any hints to a True Name. “ Call me Sonne, Boss. “
By his thirty-fifth year of existence Fil’mur’ss and his considerable talent for the arcane was natured within the House rather than outside of it. After all.. the outpost lacked an academy of its own and the more independent magi in their tower could not be trusted with his education. It did not take long for the young Szarkai to discover a preference for two very different schools of magic: Illusion and Necromancy. Easily taken as a sign of favor of Inid for the boy his training took great focus on these at detrimental exclusion more bolstering and utility forms of magic.
Fil’mur’ss spent the next two decades solely on his studies of magic.. to the point that his interests began to diverge from what his instructor was demanded to teach. This divergent path led all too soon to near-death for the Szarkai. Hardly the negative experience one might presume.. he felt enlightened and exhilaration in the wake of it.. his head filled with the Song of his very Blood! With more glee than terror he undertook self-education of this mysterious branch of the arcane that he’d stumbled upon.
With the incident of his near-death thoroughly hidden by his Instructor he was free to continue his studies to their logical end. A practical test to infiltrate the society of his surface cousins. A feat more easily said than done even for the Pale skinned and Blue-eyed Fil’mur’ss. Left to construct his own false identity he poured through tomes filled with the drow-centric history of the ‘separation’ from the surface and the elves that had remained there. Eventually compiling the alter-ego of Maereth Selakiir. Submission of this compilation to both his Instructor and the Matron earned Fil’mur’ss immediate expulsion from the subterranean outpost.
Equal parts ‘Maereth’ and his instructor’s plan.. it had been decided to clad the Szarkai youth in attire taken from an elven wizard that had been murdered during a raid and leave him behind during another such raid..bleeding from a wound inflicted by a drow-crafted blade. It did not take long for the patrol of elves both curious and wary to discover the results of the raid and the lone ‘victim’ left behind. As Maereth and the masterminds of the plan had thought.. the elves quickly accepted him as one of their own. Wounds over his eyes allowed avoiding the nuisance of sunlight on his eyes as long as they remained bandaged by the choice of elven healers.
The recovering Arcanist was eventually brought along by the patrol to the capital of Kir’viir, Arhylle in order to have a comfortable place in order to rest and recover from his ordeal. It was during this time that worked out the means to rid himself of immediate superiors among both his House and those against them. Towards these ends a tale was woven, one the elves were all too quick to believe. Though his tale did not provide information of an extent that it could be pieced together that his identity was a fallacy.. what was given proved enough to lead the elves to their eventual decision to collapse the tunnels and more through alchemical and magical means alike!
In the wake of this grand betrayal of his own House and People came the first whispers of the Divine into his mind. The entity spoke in dual-voices.. one masculine and very remicescent of the drow while the other was accented by tones he did not recognize.. though were very much feminine. The praise of his talent and his betrayal spoke volumes providing the hint of what he was being contacted by.. Inid, the Drow God of Betrayal, Deception, and Lies! Or perhaps.. two faces of the God he knew of as Inid? Only whispers of a more feminine name came with the voices, Misha.
As his actions removed any necessity of mission Maereth chose to use his time within the capital wisely. There was magic aplenty to be learned from the hated surface elves. Though his own hatred of them was hardly a great and loathing sort. It was under the tutelage of a weak link within the city, a half-elven Wizard by the name of Alxiron, that Maereth procured more diabolical knowledge than the abyssal ties of the divine his own people favored all too often. Through careful instruction of the half-breed Diabolist Maereth extended his arcane studies once more – beginning with the binding and summoning of a loyal servant, an Imp native to the Nine Hells.
The Imp, a more mischievous specimen than he’d have thought given the orderly terms his mentor had suggested the devils held fervently onto due to their very nature, gave his name as short as possible no doubt a trick to keep from giving any hints to a True Name. “ Call me Sonne, Boss. “
