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Zeblithtlar

Drow 'exotic dancer' working at a sleezy strip club at the seedy underbelly of the city.

0 · 642 views · located in Wing City

a character in “The Multiverse”, originally authored by Ironman11, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

ZEBLITHTLAR

Image
PYSHICAL INFORMATION

Race: Elf
Sub-Race: Dark Elf or Drow
Ethnicity: ‘Spider Kisser’ or Llothian Underdark
Height: 5’-1’’
Weight: 121 lb
Hair Color: Silvery
Eye Color: Red
Body Structure: Slender, Petite
General Health Condition: Moderate Health
Smoker?: Yes
Drinker?: Yes
Health Problems: Several Sexual Transmitted Diseases, Eating Disorder

SOCIAL INFORMATION

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio
Element: Water
Personality: Polite, Calm, Collected, Manipulative, Bigot, Two-Faced, Survivalist
Likes:
Dislikes:
Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
Political Affiliation: Political Independent
Occupation: Exotic Dancer
Social Class: Lower Class
Martial Status/Relationship Status: Single
Past Relationships: None (worth mentioning)
Friends: Duag Fryn'ithra
Enemies: Zen, EvaLazaro
Alliance: The Pleasure Den
Former Alliances: None

SPECIAL ABILITIES


GENERAL INFORMATION

Name: Zeblithtlar Adinaun
Alias: “Charlotte the Spider”
Rank or Title: None
Gender: Male
Age: 132
Age Appearance: Youthful
Character’s Alignment: Neutral
Character Class: Charismatic Hero
Date of Birth: 12th day of Farreach (November 19th)
Relevance to Wing City: The drow male is an employee of the seedy night club known as The Pleasure Den as well as a illegal immigrant to the city itself.

ORIGINS

Dimension or Space of Origin: Urban Arcana
Homeland: The Underdark
Education: The School of 10,000 Painful Beauties, a education in the arts of sensual pleasures and trades.
Backgrounds: Raised under the oppressive heel of a cruel society.
Biological Father:
Biological Mother:

STATS

Power:
8/30

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Speed:
11/30

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Awareness:
14/30

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Combat:
8/30

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Intellect:
19/30

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Technique:
19/30

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Endurance:
8/30

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Magic Resitance:
10/30

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Vitality:
13/30

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Engery:
5/30

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Spiritual:
8/30

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Power
How much power this character has in terms of strength and how hard the character hits

Speed
How fast this character moves in terms of running to attacks.

Awareness
How fast this character reacts and realizes.

Combat
How well this character is in melee and how well attacks are executed.

Intellect
How smart this character is in information and analyzing things, objects, and people.

Technique
How well this character uses skills/magic

Endurance
How much damage or injuries this character can take.

Magic Resistance
How much resistance toward magic this character can take as well as endure it.

Vitality
How much stamina this character has to move around.

Energy
How much energy this character has to use skills and magic

Spiritual
How well this character is connected with religion/gods/spirits/

POCCESSIONS


HISTORY

So begins...

Zeblithtlar's Story

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Zeblithtlar took a moment to 'sample' and savor the taste of the fine drink, the taste was not mixed with poison which only the drow did not desire him dead yet. He took a small sip of the alcoholic beverage placing it back downward as he remain seated. The drow composure was very relaxed, very calm and almost calculating as he remain unphased by the strong demands of Levont, he continued to speak in undercommon.

"(There are little opportunities for me to improve my station bellow the dark elven... You might say I was drawn to the surface due to a lack of labor within my original city in the underdark and the houses were making certain the 'unemployed' were at a controllable rate..)" he claimed "(Needless to say escape was the only way to avoid the butchering and seeing that I was not wealthy enough to afford transport to the next cities pass through the wild lands I was forced to take route to the surface world... the trip was very... one way."

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Zeblithtlar nodded his head "(You are correct, I have work... and I have an employer... one with station and who I can manage around.)" he commented "(I have no desire to work in any matter of security force... I have established myself a niche in this vulnerable place and I am obtaining very fine advantage because of it.)" he claimed as he took a moment to sip his sake once more.

"(You of all people should know that the dark elves are an industrial and adapting race.)"

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"(and if you could not tell... This conversation is now over... I wish you a most humble blessing for your efforts.)"

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Zeblithtlar somewhat offered a bright smirk across his face, these olden drow were so... easy to mess with. Though their hearts were far more in the correct mind set, they were unable to adapt to modern times and it was law if you were not able to adapt you deserved to perish for your hubris or your foolishness. The drow somewhat ruffled his long silvery hair some more as he began to slowly undo the top of his jacket showing off some more skin as he finished his free drink and place it back downward.

He turned his attention to another madame that had entered into the conversation his face lighting up once more with a rather friend smile. . .considering how pathetic and digusting they both were, they indeed both had very fine appearances. "The good sun to you." he greeted in broken english and a heavy elvish accent.

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Zeblithtlar exited the lobby of the Gambit's Hotel entering into the bar room. The drow had a rather large pair of sun glasses around his eyes as the exotic allure smoothed his way into his seat at a table. He remain howling deep inside his soul, the disgusting things he had to do to appease these fleshy, soft things that were all around him. The only solace he bear deeply into his rather cold unfeeling heart was how tight his webs strung around his 'clients' and how much he plan on making them pay for every loving that what he was.

He pulled out a small collection of the strange alien currency the customer paid with: the cubits as they were more commonly refer as between the more powerful and more morally correct in this city. It was indeed a currency of people who the drow had a begrudging respect for, for they were far from that of their human counterparts here on this surface.

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Zeblithtlar exited the lobby of the Gambit's Hotel entering into the bar room. The drow had a rather large pair of sun glasses around his eyes as the exotic allure soothed his way into his seat at a table. He remain howling deep inside his soul, the disgusting things he had to do to appease these fleshy, soft things that were all around him. The only solace he bear deeply into his rather cold unfeeling heart was how tight his webs strung around his 'clients' and how much he plan on making them pay for every loving that what he was.

He pulled out a small collection of the strange alien currency the customer paid with: the cubits as they were more commonly refer as between the more powerful and more morally correct in this city. It was indeed a currency of people who the drow had a begrudging respect for, for they were far from that of their human counterparts here on this surface.

The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Side Alley

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Zeblithtlar light a bright match from a faded old match box that was on his person, the lettering advertising his place of work. The bright lights were reflected off the black tint of the drow's sun glasses as he motioned to light his cigarette blowing away some smoke as he stood somewhat alone on the stoop of an old run down portion of the city.

No one often visit the likes of this place and the drow was often impressed how neglectful and cruel that the renvir were to these here... It thoroughly impressed him so... and yet at the same time even animals and stupid beasts could be cruel and not realize any better and the drow did not give them too much credit. Dicarding the match by waving around several time, the drow somewhat rose from his seat at the stoop and took a general look around, eying the other poor and destitute that littered the streets like the broken glass and garbage that piled upon the floor.

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Zeblithtlar turned his attention to another animal, helpless and lost. Zeblithtlar truly pity this place as a far superior and stronger place would slaughter such a weak creature who was openly asking for help. But then again, this was not a superior city and he would have to adapt properly.

He was somewhat happy his common was improving alot, though his heavy elvish accent and lack of articulation was disarming at times the dark elf knew he would never get anywhere if he did not mastered the tongue. "I may.." he answered simply enough placing a pack of cigarettes back into his pocket as he took a moment to inspect this stranger. "But before I offer any kind of assistance, I would first like to know who I am talking to." he requested. "Please excuse my bluntless... My knowledge of the common tongue is a work in progress... I am "Charlotte", local resident around this particular realm of the city... to whom am I addressing?"

The setting changes from Side Alley to Canti's Diner

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Zeblithtlar somewhat relaxed himself in a seat at the this crude, tacky, unrefined cesspool of culture that the renvir dwell. The dark elven man always loathed venturing into this place though he had claimed over and over again that it was his 'favorite place to dine' to the waitresses as a means to prevent his food from being ruined or possibly tampered with.

Zeb reached into the pocket of his jacket his eyes wandering around beneath his thick sun glasses as they examine the old truckers at the edge of the counter, the family at the booth, the rather obsess couple at a table. Pathetic and weak creatures that would not last a forth night beneath the more superior world of the underdark... Slave Fodder for all he was concerned. But even with each of these sinister thoughts entertaining his head his general attitude to this situtation was merely survival and blatant indifference...

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Zeblithtlar piercing crimson red eyes casually glanced outside the edges of his sun glasses. He examined this young worthless whelp both up and down, the spoiled, entitled creature that would normally be justified to do so.. after all the background which he hailed from was vastly superior than these peons.

At the same time they never seemed to use that power to its limits and potenial which further explained the inferiority of the surface world bellow that of the UnderDark culture. Still with these thoughts within his mind the drow merely pulled out a pack of spidery cigarettes and flaunted a gleaming smile as he eyed the stranger both up and down.

The cigarette was lighted through a lighter and smoke poured from his nostrils as he nodded his head pulling the stool over to allow the stranger to sit. "Of course." he merely added in a soft luscious voice.

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Zeblithtlar took a moment to inspect this pathetic stupid creature before him. He seemed somewhat confused by his question though as he looked to touch his lips expecting a sore upon it. No... It was not an outbreak as he looked to the reflective surface of the toaster. All he could see was his lips and the cigarette sticking between them.

"My lips?" he somewhat exclaimed still slightly confused on what he was talking about.

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Zeblithtlar took pause as the man touched his cigarette. His ears somewhat ringed when he talked about the planes. The drow knew little of these, but what he did know and what he had heard it was the dwelling place of creatures far beyond one's comprehension.

His eyes lingered from the position of the shades to blankly stare at this stranger with shock unsure what matter of outsider or demon or whatever it was before him was speaking to him. Or... It was quite simple that he was merely mentally unsound creature that the surface was weak enough to spare.

He offered a friendly smile as he pulled out the cigarette from his mouth and merely shook his head "No.. I am not." he promised "This is a 'smoke' it allows people to ease their emotions... dull their passions and is considered a great symbol of masculinity for it takes some endurance to inhale the fumes within.." he proposed as he took a great inhale of the cigarette pulling the edges back before puffing the end off in the ash tray.

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Zeblithtlar gave big pause to the stranger before him. It was quite certain that he was a mad man, one that was a ranting loon that should have been exterminated for this weakness. Still to say that out loud would cause complications and thus the dark elven man motioned to pull out another cigarette and lit it with the handy dandy services of his lighter.

He presented the smoke between his two fingers "I am certain appearances are far more deceiving than we expect... Partake this smoke, place it upon your lips and suck the contents within its end." he instructed. "I am honored to be in the presence of such a powerful scion... I am Charlotte... Charlotte of the section of the city known as Side Alley." he proposed.

The setting changes from Canti's Diner to Wing City

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Zeblithtlar blew smoke out of the cancer stick wedged into his two jet black lips. The dark elven man was dressed in beautiful alluring clothes, wrinkled and cheapen by the disgusting deeds of the last evening's passion... Something which granted the small stack of bills that were stuffed into the back pocket of his tight pants.

The medical sun glasses mostly blocked on the stinging sun that was the bane of most dark elven creatures, the dancer was semi-blind as he stumbled upon some pathetic creature.

It was dirty, mangy and worthless to behold, something truly even a waste for the altars of Lloth as she would find the feline-like creature an insult of a sacrifice. The creature should been thanking the great earth he stood on he was born in a realm that was less morale enough to allow it to continue to exist.

"Are... You alright?" he asked in a calm and delicate manner somewhat feinting a look of concern as he pulled his thick shades to have his crimson red eyes to slightly inspect this person.

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Zeblithtlar merely offered a very friendly smile, that what stupid pathetic creatures like these feel more comfortable with, a friendly grin to reassure everything was alright. After all, it took an incredibly dumb animal to be violent and crazed and dealing with something like that was the last thing the dark elven male desired.

"It is alright... Please don't be shy." He proposed in a luscious and soft voice somewhat adjusting his position downward and offering a hand over to the slightly taller male. "Please... what is your name?" he inquired

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Zeblithtlar gave pause with a confused look, he really was mentally troubled. "Trip on you? I apologize, but I did no such thing." he proposed somewhat concerned if this was some sort of saying these surfacers like to say. Offering a friendly smile though utterly disgusted by the filth and grime of this creature's fingers deep inside he began to speak. "My name is Charlotte, it is an honor to meet you." the dark elven man purposed.

The drow took a moment to turn away from Rio to smoke for a moment before extinguishing the burning cancer stick upon the ground. "May I ask what you are doing out here in the moment?"

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Zeblithtlar merely faked a chuckle as he motioned his hands to gesture him to stop "No... No I do not." he exclaimed as he took a general look at his accommodation. It was a rather pathetic abode even for a weak creature as this one. The drow somewhat leaned upon the nearby wall to simply relax for the moment before he took a good look to Rio "May I ask if I am intruding on something?" he inquired.

The setting changes from Wing City to Goldenbridge Ward

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Zeblithtlar remained somewhat calm and collected as he relaxed in the comforting shade of the Alley-Way in the bustling market place around him. The drow obtained some vicious and distrustful looks, whispers and even cautious reactions at the sight of dark elf within the walls. There was a superscription that Drows brought misery and misfortune by their mere presence, and despite how foolishly it sound, Zeb would agree there was some truth in such rumors.

After all, many who dwell the surface were the signs of greater things to come, conquests and raids and slaving, pure and superior civilization to these barbarians before his eyes. Regardless, the short, slender man was not some scout or spy nor was he institched with politic, he was merely a man committing to his trade and making a living. With any good fortune and wardrobe change tonight, those distrustful looks would turn into ones of intrigue and sensual desires.

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Crimson red eyes studied the form that walked into the nearby alley way somewhat sizing the creature before him. Zeb silently stood where he was for a small while longer observing the bright vivid pair of wings that protruded out of the stranger's long and bulky coat.

"Greetings." Was all he said merely remaining where he was his expression of indifference unchanged for now.

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Zeblithtlar awaited for a single more moment, his crimson red eyes scanning across the stranger's being as the dark elven man merely paused. "You have most beautiful wings, it is a shame to hide them." He spoke his mind, a rare feat but then again the drow was not working was he?

Without another word the drow shifted away to walk out of the Alley somewhat moving outward with a small hand basket around his arm.

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Passed by the stalls and market stands as his gaze worked its way back to the stranger that also walked outward. Already his basket was filled with various fungi and mushroom bloom as well as fish meat and some oils for cooking. The drow had to maintain a proper diet to keep the body he hid beneath a loose bulky assortment of clothes somewhat paying for the ingridents with good money.

His attention drew back to the stranger again as he stood by a stand selling bright vivid cloths of silk, somewhat curiously searching for the one brand of silk that always laid cooling in the shade: Spider Silk.

The setting changes from Goldenbridge Ward to Wing City

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Zeblithtlar

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Zeblithtlar took a long gasping drink of water, the lights at the club were sometimes blinding and the stale scent of cigarettes and three day old chicken wings did not parch the drow's thirst. A few other 'performers' were hanging in the backstage somewhat preparing for the next set, a small semilit alley end establishment welcoming greeters with bright neon lights.

It was a shady den of various sleazy people, a few brightly colored stages with poles and the blaring horrid lights of the disco tech that glimmered the room in dim lights. Zeb could have told in the corner of the club a few members of some matter of criminal organization were doing a drug deal.

"Alright! Alright! We got customers out there that been waiting for this entertainment! Get out there! Time to shine!" Zeb could hear the anxious voice of the manager. He had been spending the last ten minutes getting into a rather flimsy costume as he and the others were rushed over to the edge of the backstage.

Marlene the act before was collecting the clothes applying it to her nude form as she slowly began to back away from the stage, the static voice of the DJ blaring in an obscured noise as he began to headline. "Alright folks give it one more time for Candy-Cane Louisiana! Fine dancing this evening and don't worry folks we got a lot more coming right up! Don't forget to tip your waitresses and here we are!" Zeblithtlar knew that was his crew. The lights slightly dimmed as he began to soothed his way into the scene along with two others who were dark elven in nature man and women.

They took their respective posts with the woman front lining as the music began to play. Zeblithlar merely worked the pole like any other night, expecting a lot of eagering hands to shove money close to everywhere and idle conversation with a few lonely people.

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Zeblithtlar had noticed a new person arrive into the club that was not of the regular crowd. His alluring red eyes met with the stranger's green ones for just a moment before a coy grin was offered to the man across his way. His body gracefully moved and motioned across the dance pole, as a few more dollars were being offered more and more of the flimsy costume was being stripped off his rather alluring jet black body. The flowing silver hair followed with each motion as the first layer of the costume had been removed to reveal the second layer which was a lot more revealing lacy and titillating that would only result in more skin. In the brief grace of a moment, Zeb had offered the stranger a wink of his eye.