Vystair Dae'dre

Drow Swashbuckler (3) Bladesinger (5) Fey Warlock (5) Urchin, Level 13


Gender: Male
Age: 49
Height: 5’ 4’’
Weight: 94 lbs.

A reed thin elven figure of below average height, standing under five and a half feet. He moves with an easy grace and exceptional quickness, his light steps soft and quiet. His long slightly unkempt hair is an extremely pale yellow that’s nearly the color of white bone, a leather headband keeps most of his hair from blocking his lilac colored eyes. His dark skin is a pale purple blue, with dark grey scars common along his slender form, the many rough years he spent sleeping on the streets leaving it’s mark. He wears dark, nearly black, loose fitting clothes made from light weight cloth, giving him plenty of mobility. Though he wears no armor, and carries only small blades, he still manages to carry himself like a man familiar with danger. The well stocked backpack he wears beneath his long pale grey cloak also marks him for the adventurer he is.

A warlock sworn to a fey prince of shadows and deception, he keeps his dark elf heritage a well guarded secret, maintaining an illusion that turns his skin and hair the coloring of his wood elf brethren. Though there are those who have fought along side him who have seen his true form. His shadow magic summons forth spectral armor and a long razor thin blade of darkness and shadow whenever the need arises. He wears a leather thong around his neck which holds the black veined, deep violet focusing crystal he uses to channel and manipulate the fey arcana. The arcane energy pulses with darkness and shadow, the violet light it gives off seems to create unnaturally deep and dark shadows. The crackling bolts of eldritch energy he hurls take on the shape and appearance of daggers made of darkness.


Born out of pain and misery, his mother, a young elf, was among a wagon train, travelling to north along the sword coast. A party of dark elves ambushed them on the open road, it was a brutal and bloody encounter, the wagon train split by the dark elves because of a clever use of the terrain. Many died, but the drow took too much pleasure in their cruelty, and it allowed the men of the wagon train, a mix of elves, dwarves and humans, to regroup and dispatch the dark elves. It was not soon enough for some though, as some of the dark elves had raped them. As they continued their travel, one of the survivors realized her rapist’s seed had quickened, and she was with child. The weather turned bad and slowed their progress, keeping her from the city until it was far too late to be rid of the child without hurting herself. She gave birth to the child not long after arriving in Waterdeep, hoping against hope her blood would be dominant and he child would be a surface elf. Her prayers went unanswered, her son’s skin a dark shade of pale violet blue, his eyes extremely sensitive to light, granting him enhanced night vision but leaving him nearly blind in direct sunlight. A few weeks later, the newborn dark elf was squalling on the steps of an orphanage, as his mother left the city among another wagon train.

The orphanage was not a kind place, especially for a dark elf. He drew bullies like shit drew flies, and it forced him to learn how to survive. He learned a great deal in a short amount of time, but it wasn’t long before defending himself was twisted against him and he was out on the streets for good. He learned to steal and hide, using make-up to disguise his heritage. In the alleys of Waterdeep he continued his education, and it was in there, in the dark alleys, that he met the fey prince of shadows and lies. After stealing some fruit, he was running from the merchant’s guard, he turned a corner and rather then an alley way, found himself in a massive temple of black marble in a world of shadow. He had wandered into the shadow realm, seemingly by accident. He went about exploring the massive temple and realm for what felt like days but couldn’t have been more then minutes, as he lost all track of time in this shadow place. There he came upon the fey prince and thinking quickly, he made a bargain to obtain arcane powers. When he was younger he’d seen the studious and well behaved orphans taken off to Mage academies and their successes were often talked and dreamed of, by the orphans left behind. He knew arcane abilities would elevate him from the simple life of a street urchin. Life on the streets had reinforced this lesson, seeing the advantage magic gave one, Vystair wanted that power for himself for years before he stumbled into the Gloaming Court. When he returned to the Material plane, only moments had passed, he used his new magic to fight off the guards and escape Waterdeep. Days later, he left the city behind seeking work as an adventurer around the Moonsea, having heard of the opportunities to be had there.

Vystair Dae'dre

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