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Soloran Sin'szin

A battle-hardened drow wanderer who has seen and done much in his lifetime.

0 · 634 views · located in Master's Dojo (Hidden?)

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Undertow

Description

Standing tall for a dark elf, a bit over six feet in height, he radiates an imposing presence. Clad in a heavy black cloak, details about his form can't be distinguished upon casual inspection. Beneath the cowl of his voluminous hood, a pair of dully glowing, crimson eyes can be seen, ever examining his surroundings.

Personality

He is cautious, having done many things in his lifetime that would merit execution by anyone's standards. He is arrogant, yet not foolishly so. He is aware of his skills and puts them to the test almost endlessly. He will not back down from a fight, choosing instead to deal with the threat then and there if circumstances permit. He seems almost noble, in a way. A wanderer now, though he had once been a king in another land, another time.

So begins...

Soloran Sin'szin's Story

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Several summers had passed since anyone had seen him. He doubted any would recognize him now. A gloved hand pushed the door of the bar inwards, and the tall, lithe form of a cloaked figure stepped into view. Dust from the road collected about the base of the long garment, knocked free by silent footfalls as they carried him further into the room. A pair of dully glowing crimson eyes peered out from beneath the cowl of his hood, pulled low to further obscure his features.

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Typical, he thought to himself. His first visit to such an establishment in years, and the only other occupant in sight was a fair-skinned elven girl. Despite himself, a slight smirk surfaced on his dark, thin lips as he raised gloved hands to hood, drawing it back. Tightly braided, silvery white locks fell about his shoulders, framing his ebon face. She was right, he was drow.

"I suppose all of the usual fare is stocked here, hm?"

His voice was quiet, though deep and somewhat melodic. He was looking at the elf when he spoke the words, but she still couldn't quite be sure if he was addressing her or not.

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"So it would appear."

He then turned his gaze away as he rounded the corner of the bar, completely dismissing any staff that attempted to get his attention. Slender fingers traced the labels as he examined the contents of the shelves, finally coming to rest on a bottle nearly at the other end of bar. A ghost of a smile haunted his visage for a moment as he pulled his selection from its place. He then turned to retrieve a glass.

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He paused for a moment in his actions, the stopper half way out of the neck of the bottle, before a smile did appear on his features. His gaze shifted down to the girl, and while his expression seemed somewhat pleasant, she might have caught the hint of murder in his eyes, though if only for a split second.

"Of course," he replied in that same whispered tone, before he turned again to the task at hand, but not before setting a second glass beside the first. Pouring both a generous serving of the purple wine, he lifted both glasses and offered one to the fair-skinned elf.

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He lifted the remaining glass slightly and spoke,

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He lifted the remaining glass slightly and spoke,

"To new beginnings."

He then smiled slightly at his glass, a far-off look crossing his features for a moment before he tipped the glass back and took a long pull from the drink. The wine was aromatic, too bitter, slightly sweet. It went down easily, though, and surprised with a subdued aftertaste that lingered.

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"I don't normally share my wine with pretty little fair-skinned things due to mine," he replied, eyes narrowing over the brim of his glass, focused on her. He set his own glass down on the counter, then proceeded to pull off his heavy gloves. Dark markings could be seen about his wrists, presumably traveling up the length of his arms. Tattoos, a shade darker than his own skin, could barely be made out. And on the index finger of each hand was a ring, both jet black in color, polished like glass. The sigils upon each were different, however.

He shrugged then. "But thus far no god has come down to challenge me, so I figure that they must be just words."

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"I was once both," came his reply. "But I became so much more."

He leaned forward, crossing his arms and resting on them across the bar from her. The bracers on his forearms were too fine for a common thug. Indeed, they possessed some magical properties, if she had any talent for noticing such things.

"Where should I begin?"

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"Then I am afraid the story ends before it is begun. Regret and guilt are for the weak and frightened."

With that, he lifted the glass from the bar once more and drank again.

"And I do not seek forgiveness."

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"You asked," was his reply. A smirk graced his lips as she retreated from him, though he did not move except to sip once more from the glass in his hand. He wondered for the first time tonight if he should kill her, to have his smile be the last thing she saw before she left the living behind. Then the thought passed, and he responded further to her questions, "Oh how am I supposed to know you're some priestess? All of your kind go on about this goddess or another until the fire goes out." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "And if I recall correctly, you approached me, my dear."

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"Of course it wouldn't." And hate filled his gaze for a moment, eyes of crimson narrowing as they turned upon her. "My first kill on the surface was an elf, you know. All long bow and hunting greens, in a forest no less." He continued, speaking harshly in that whispered tone, "That elf, my dear, tried to kill my sister, simply for being a drow." He emphasized the word in the same way that she did. "Take care, pretender, that you do not fall prey to the wickedness in your own thoughts, else you may find that you and I might not be so different after all."

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"My second was of equal necessity. There are not many places on the surface where once such as you should fear to walk. A pretty little fair-skinned thing, and a priestess at that. Who would harm such a creature? And if one should decide to try, how many others would raise weapon to protect you?" His fingers idly traced around the base of his glass as he stood in silence for a moment. "I have no such luxuries, and I never will. Wherever I go, I am branded. You were fearful and distrustful of me before we shared words. How many people do you think share your attitude toward me and my kind, hm? How many people would be willing to raise weapons to defend me?" He lifted his glass. "I will not lie, I did grow to enjoy using my skills for profit. But a cruel world makes a cruel man, my dear."

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"Indeed, I bear the burden on my shoulders," he chuckled wryly at that. "And I wish no harm upon my fellow drow. I once led them, in fact. All the drow in all the lands of Winterhaven." He smiled slightly at the memory. "Have you ever seen your goddess?" He asked suddenly.

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"Oh, don't be silly," he replied, taking a moment to refill his glass. "All of the gods are real." After a pause, he added, "I have seen them."

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He narrowed his eyes for a moment, then lifted his glass and moved toward her table. Taking the chair across from her, he sat, setting his drink on the table. Then, slowly, he lifted a blackened metal chain from around his neck and set it on the table, sliding the amulet toward her. The sigil was recognizable as Vhaeraun's, one of the drow gods, of particular interest to the males of the species. This particular amulet radiated great, but subtle power, however, as it was special. "Yes."

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He shrugged slightly, pulling the amulet back by its chain before hanging it once more around his neck and tucking it beneath his cloak. "On which occasion?" He lifted his glass to his lips again to drink. He seemed to be enjoying this back and forth.

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"I am his Chosen, you see. It is no secret that Vhaeraun wishes to see the drow walk the surface once more and forsake that bitch Lloth for all times." The man had to have no fear, to insult the Spider Queen openly. "I am his agent in that regard, and he gives me what I need. A Paladin of sorts, though he and I are closer than any priest to his god. Closer than you could possibly imagine."

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"Oh, if that is true, then believe me, Lloth has had an earful of things that I have said. I do not suffer for it." He smiled slightly. "In the past I have convinced her priestesses to lay down their whips and robes and trade them for my bed sheets. She is powerless, the Spider Queen, and it is folly for the drow to worship her."

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"That is another story. One of the last days of a dying realm, an entire world consumed by emptiness and hordes of undead. I stayed until the last, fighting alongside my enemies, but in the end, all was lost. That was no gods' doing. No god is that powerful."