Role

Chapter 1

The dark elf race are swift of mind and hand. Deadly with blade and spell,
there are few foes the paragons of their race need give concern to facing;
yet even so. They are flawed.

So was the thinking of a particularly unpleasant specimen of the species. A
transmuter of no mean skill, he had once tasted the bite of a mithril blade
in his youth and the fear had stayed with him to his fourth century, the
phantom pain as fresh as the day the incision had been made. So it was that
on the day 400 years since his regretable birth he resolved to dedicate
some decades to solving the problem. To excise the lone flaw of the highest
of the races of Thera was a project worthy of a mind as great as his. It
would be his magnum opus.

Of course, the research would be a costly affair, and he could not be
expected to risk his own health in the experiments. Why, he could live
another four centuries yet! Far better to utilise the castoffs. It was
unfortunate that drow lives would need to be spent, but far too many
orphans tended to end up enrolled in that thug Thrym's school regardless.
It was for the best.

It was for the good of the race.

And his research, naturally.