Kyrrenthia the Weaver of the Elements

Role

Chapter 7

As Kyrrenthia's observation of the warmbloods increased her familiarity, so did her burgeoning
disgust and contempt. She surveilled, silently, some distance from the fire and watched them
carelessly packing food into their filthy faces, laughing, spraying bits of quail everywhere. She
had nothing but veiled hatred for them. She glided on freshly laid ice deeper into the tree to
swallow some mountain berries, loathing the pulp and the seeds and the laughter she could still
hear.

Her inability to survive without constant sustenance infuriated Kyrrenthia. She resented the
enslavement of this bare requirement to keep the emptiness at bay. Even worse was the rage
that accompanied the need to sleep. What was this ordered clockwork shutdown of mind? What
purpose did it serve other than to remind her that even this body was a mere slave. Being
forced into helplessness by some invisible power. How predicable. How orderly. How pathetic.
This body was bound in ways she could not yet escape.

Bound. The word shattered in her mind, splintering into a infinite painful shards. Freedom.

Time. An interesting concept. She now measures such a trivial concern by glorious winters.
Yes, it was now time to consider what to do next. Burning the cities of stolen stone to rubble is
wonderful, but it was merely the precursor. It was time to encase the entire world in ice. There
would be no more laughter.

She had started to hear things, see things. Words on the lips of the nearly dead, a symbol
glimpsed for half a moment in the swirling snow. The Nightreaver had even said a name.

Jormyr.

A god, so it was said, of elemental destruction. Kyrrenthia never did quite grasp gods. What
god could be more than the frozen fury of the storm? With the name on her icy lips the signs
grew more frequent. An infinite helix formed by branches, by gusts of ice in blizzards, eddies
swirling in snow, by frosty tendrils creeping across the bursting azure flesh of the fallen.

Role

Chapter 6

A gutteral sound rose from deep in her throat. A rage arisen in her spirit as elemental forces
surged through her body into the prime plane. Her savage heart awakened, and Kyrrenthia
howled in pain, agony, contempt, and a myriad of other... feelings... she could not understand.
She only knew destruction would follow. This time, she knew what she must must do.

Seasons changed and years came and went unnoticed by Kyrrenthia who measured time only
by the thickness of the callouses on her azure feet, which trod to the far corners of Thera as she
learned to focus her destructive fury into blasts of flame, water, and air, crackling bursts of
electricity, and shards of ice, beautiful, deadly spears of ice. Never was she more pleased than
when she rimed a burrow with frost and slipped within, feeling the cold radiate power and
strength into her body.

She did not seek Thar-Eris, she was part of Thar-Eris, as all things are and in time a voice
would speak to her and draw her into the Tree, but still she did not belong.

This was not her home.

Not yet.

Role

Chapter 5

The feeling was back. An...emptiness. How she hated it, how she hated what she had to do to
make it stop, but here it was again. She fell to her knees and overturned a rock resting against
the base of a tree. All manner of squirmy things writhed beneath. She stuffed them into her
mouth. Some time later the emptiness was gone, but she knew it would return.

This whole landscape was alien to her, the greenness of her surroundings almost as strange as
the deep-azure of her own hands. She had met a four-legged antlered being who ran when she
approached. She had met a group of two-legged pale things who had shouted "Drow! Drow!" at
her and chased her with pointed sticks. Other encounters followed.

What was she? Darkling? Drow? Evil? Monster?

Kyrrenthia was none of these things, or, perhaps, all of them. She did not understand nor care
for the way the two-legged ones yelled, rushing into their structures if they were few in number,
or rushing out of them if there were many. She became aware of another emptiness within her,
if she had the words for it she would have recognized it as hatred.

The hatred made her tired, another thing she didn't understand. The need to periodically seek
refuge beneath a bush and cover herself with pine needles was frustrating and cost her valuable
time as she made her way to...

Where was she going? She did not know, but still she went. Driven by pure instinct and primal
forces beyond her mindscape.

Some days later the emptiness again upon her she laid her hand on a stone and something
happened. Memories, but not her own, flooded her mind. Words and images formed. Arbiters,
Cities, an ancient Tree destroyed by an Empire, by Tribunal, Nature, Civilization, Defilers,
Screaming, Building, Burning. Lines were drawn in her mind between the shouters in the
structures and natural things. She looked again at her azure hands. She was a natural thing,
this body may not be hers, but she was a ... thing... something... All the while "Thar-Eris" echoed
in her mind.

More pain, different and sharper this time than the emptiness.

Role

Chapter 4

Beneath the vicious gaze of the Matron, Ilazmi, servant of the Handmaiden of the Matron,
secretly plotted the Matron's death. Her daily pain of serving that vile bitch eating away at her
slowly over the centuries. She fantasized only of her agonizing, violent end. She would have
never imagined her birthed child would bring her reign crashing down. A fitting end for the
controlling wretch.

The nurse, Ilazmi, rushed through the corridor, frigid babe clutched to her rapidly cooling breast,
her nipples painfully hard. This was the sign she had been waiting for. Many faiths were present
in the ever-warring houses of the Underdark. Some wore theirs openly, but Ilazmi did not. She
worshipped Jormyr, Lord of Destruction, and this was his child, she knew it. Her heart pounded
in excitement, her body flush with hormone.

Back in her private stone chambers she extinguished the sconces and immersed the mewling
infant in frigid water from an underground spring, but it was not cold enough to comfort her. She
thought back to the birthing chamber, how the healers had cried out to kill the cursed child and
how she had invoked a blinding prayer upon them, scooped up the infant, burning her hands
upon the blistering cold in the process, and fled.

The strangely cold blue infant wailed and she somehow knew instinctively if it was not soothed
with ice its cries would draw the patrollers. She kissed its forehead, leaving her lips blistered,
and fled to the icy surface, deep in the throes of winter.

Emerging upon the Frigid Wasteland Ilazmi scooped as much snow as she could into a canvas
sack and fled back through the tunnels. The basin in which she had left a screaming infant now
contained a toddling child weeping in what seemed pain, perhaps confusion. Her tears a mass
of frozen ice upon her face. Ilazmi dropped to her knees and began rubbing the child down with
icy snow, calming her.

In a rare act, perhaps a primal instinct of motherhood long buried within her mind, she reached
out to embrace the child. Kyrrenthia nuzzled her face into Ilazmi's ample breasts, sucking at her
nipple. Immediately, and to her surprise, Ilazmi's breast provided nourishment to Kyrrenthia, the
feeling rushing through her body one of sheer ecstasy. Kyrrenthia sucked and suckled, holding
her face to Ilazmi's chest until the very blood within her body froze still. Kyrrenthia drank her fill
and released her grasp upon the nurse. She shattered when she hit the floor into a chaotic
pattern of ice and ebony darkness. Now yet older the blue girl followed the trail of melted snow
to through the tunnels to the surface, not knowing where, or what she really was.

Role

Chapter 3

The House of Obok'Quarth, where only the truly sophisticated aristocratic of drow can
promenade in peace and order without being subjected to the vulgar axilla scratching antics of
the lower houses. The Matron's palace, a fastidiously gated fortress accessible only to those
ruthless and cunning enough to reside in its idyllic expanse was a hard won privilege, others
were just born into it.

A Matron's death is always an ill omen, even in a minor house. Altercations ensue, descendants
are often slaughtered or crippled at the convenience of whomever sits in line for the inheritance.
One would expect in this orderly house, things would be no different. Actually, what occurred
this day was a distinctly divergent.

None of the servants had ever heard such wailing. Normally a Drowish birth was accompanied
by a fair amount of vulgarity, but maintaining a stiff upper lip was of utmost importance, and so
stoicism usually reigned. Especially with this Matron, bent on order and superiority over those
beneath her. Never once seen to squirm. Never once startled or surprised.

Not this day. The exact moment between the Month of Great Evil, and the Month of Winter, the
Matron gave birth. To be exact, she provided the vessel for something far greater. Her blood
was the solvent between worlds, her life the price.

The Matron shrieked of blistering cold. A bitter bite so deep, it burned and boiled her from within.
The Matron begged that the infant be cut from her womb before she burst or shriveled, she was
uncertain of which the pain was so excruciating. She stiffened and shuddered more and more
with each contraction until such a chill filled the room that even the ebon-skinned healers
exchanged apprehensive glances. A fire was built, but instead of warming the Matron, she
howled in superb agony even louder, as if the pain responded in kind to the warmth of flame.

Finally the infant-girl arrived, the Matron's greying, pale skin cracked and burst as she emerged,
so frosty was her flesh and blood that it hemorrhaged as a bloody slush from her body.
Whatever her last words might have been, they were frozen for eternity upon her misshapen
bursting lips, too frozen to move. All that remained and issued forth was a plume of icy breath.

The child was of intense darkness. Kyrrenthia was not the solid ebony of others, but seemingly
a deep azure so intense that it swallowed the light, like the heart of an immense glacier
surrounded by darkness. Fearful and unsure of what was happening, the nurses rushed her to
the fire, but the closer the infant got to the flames the louder she shrieked, the colder she
became. So cold the nurses hands burned and blistered from the intense freeze. Kyrrenthia,
tumbled to the ground, and scurried away from the hearth, despite being only moments old.

An ill omen, indeed.

Role

Chapter 2

Kyrrenthia's skin shines with a glimmer of moisture. The sheen
reflective enough to send light scattering about her rigid form.
Her silvery hair grapples about her skull, pulled so tightly that
her face seems to have stretched to meet her hairline. Her skin,
while ebony, is tinged with an odd deep azure tone.

Gazing beneath a clammy brow, her bright white eyes are piercing
in contrast to her sharp and angular face. The harsh slope of her
jaw creates a fine delineation between light and shadow, adding
to the strangeness of her appearance. Her belongings seem to
also sweat with glimmer of a fine sheen of water, as if they
were covered with condensation from the surrounding air.

You also notice that she is wearing:

Role

Chapter 1

Summary

1. Is an Ice elemental. Her creation is unknown, and her past is unknown.
2. The Thar-Eris used her spirit to pull the elements into the prime plane.
3. The Dark-Elf body she inhabits has been usurped by the element ice at birth.
4. She awakened in Thera, with no memory of her past or her mortality.
5. She struggles with emotions because she has never had them before.
6. She will eventually learn how to be like an elemental, not feel emotion, etc.
7. She will be very cold to the touch, she will have a cold grasp against others.
8. She will not be able to hear her own heartbeat, this will not frighten her.
9. She will have absolutely no remorse, and will do whatever serves her will to destroy.
10. She is driven to destruction of all things by utilizing the strife of elements.
11. She will thrive on chaos, and sow it wherever she can, with words or deeds.
12. She has no last name as she has no memory of being born to flesh.
13. She will be very uncomfortable in hot places, or where there is abundance of fire.
14. She will use fire to destroy so the rubble can be covered in ice.
15. She has an instinct to cover whatever is left from her destruction with Ice.
16. Unconsciously, and by instinct, will try to find a way back to her plane by freezing everything.

Beliefs
1. Will eventually find her way to Jormyr's Shrine, but there will need to be a catalyst.
2. She will believe that through Jormyr, strife, and destruction, she can get back to ice plane.
3. She believes that the destruction of Thar-Eris is the very destruction of her spirit.
4. She believes that any form of slavery or order inhibits chaos, and as such is unnatural.
5. She believes that civilization destroys the spirit of Thar-Eris by taking from the elements.
6. She believes that when there is nothing left but ice, she will be home.

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