Need a character background written up?

[Tawmis]

2nd
Name: Maya Talael
Race: Elf, Drow
Gender: Female
Class: Rogue/Fighter Assassin
Background: Charlatan
Personality: You make sure as few people know the truth about what you think as possible. Your bounty and your survival matter the most.
Ideals: You want to be free from anyone's control, and you distrust Lloth. You refuse to be held back from success. There are truly few people worth trusting, better make sure the person the the right one before sleeping with both eyes closed.
Bonds: You owe your life to your guild, but that doesn't mean that debt is worth your life.
Flaws: You're convinced no one can fool anyone like you can.
Notes: Part of a thieves guild, just beginning her assassin career. She doesn’t remember her time before her life in the guild, but she wants out. She has no faith in Lloth, but doesn’t truly understand any other deity. She goes by the name Lorelei Darova.

This was another fun one to write. Being a Drow character, I took the opportunity to tie it into this and this origin that I had previously written; further touching upon and expanding on the "Tawmis-Verse" that continues to grow in this thread.

The character immediately spoke to me; and I left some DM strings to tug on, if this character is used.

As always, I'd love to hear ANY feedback you have (whether it be good or bad!)

In the meantime, enjoy!
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The glass shattered and fell on the floor.

“You’re awake,” a voice said. As I turned my head, still barely able to stand, a shadowed figure stepped out of the darkness. “I was fearful that Sureena Pyre’sin lieutenant named Mí-úsáid had indeed gotten the best out of you.”

“Who are you,” I growled, attempting to sound threatening, but truth be told, could barely maintain my balance.

“My name is Scáth Rith,” the male drow elf replied.

I tried to recall what my name was to formerly introduce myself while I bought myself to recover from whatever was making my head sway. I stared at Scáth, puzzled. “Why can’t I remember my name?”

“Mí-úsáid beat you pretty badly,” Scáth replied, “she threw you down in the pit for Hook Horrors to feed on you.”

Scáth was a Drow, like me. That much was clear. I can remember what Hook Horrors are; aberrations that stood nine feet tall and weighed over three hundred pounds. Their front limbs ended in twelve inch-long razor-sharp, blade-like hooks, for which they got their name.

“Why did this Mí-úsáid beat me then throw me down the Horror Pit?” I asked, piece of my past like whispering shadows in the back of my mind. Struggling, I knelt down and began to pick up the glass I had knocked over when I had suddenly sat up. Holding the pieces of the shattered vase I realized that the vase was a symbol of my memory. Fractured and destroyed. Piecing it all back together would be impossible and it would never be the same again.

“If it helps,” Scáth replied, setting his hand on mine, “your name is Maya Talael. You were a part of Sureena’s battalion. When a Drow slave named Draz’ture Tal’shore had tried to escape with a human female whom he had impregnated. You were one of the four who failed to stop the woman from escaping. Sureena gave pursuit up the chamber, but never returned. Mí-úsáid, who is blindly loyal to Sureena, took all of you in her battalion and punished you all.”

Sureena. The battalion.

“Lolth,” I managed to whisper seeing my dented armor leaning against the wall, the symbol of the Spider Queen on the front. “We served Lolth.”

“Correct,” Scáth grabbed a cup of tea and handed it to me.

“So if I was thrown into the Horror Pit, how did I end up here?” I asked taking the cup and sipping on it.

“My,” he paused to think of the right word, “organization knows when people are destined for the Horror Pit. And when someone is scheduled to be thrown down the Horror Pit that could prove useful, we poison the Hook Horrors and make them sluggish, so that we can get in there and rescue the doomed soul.”

“So you find me useful,” I asked eyeing Scáth.

“I’ve seen you fight,” Scáth confessed openly. “You move like a cat. Unlike Sureena and Mí-úsáid, you used whatever advantage you had at your disposal to win a fight. You were not bound by this ‘sense of honor’ that they felt. I could tell you never truly believed ‘in the cause.’ And truth be told,” he added, “I,” then paused, and amended; “we need more people like you.”

“What is this ‘organization’ that you speak of,” I asked.

“It’s called The Saoirse,” he explained. “We may be Drow, but those who are a part of the Saoirse believe that Lolth is deceiving us. She is using us as tools for a greater game for her own cause but will immediately discard us once she’s reached her end goal. We are trying to find those of like mind to join our rebellion.”

“Does this ‘rebellion’ have a specialty,” I asked, sensing more to what Scáth was sharing.

“We … acquire information,” Scáth confessed. “If we happen to acquire anything else along the way, then so be it.”

“So then what use do you have for me? I am no thief,” I said, finishing my cup of tea and setting it down.

“You’re more than that,” Scáth replied, “or you can be. With your skill and grace, you can be trained to be something more than just a mercenary or a fighter.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Sometimes, removing someone from a seat in an office can be just what we need,” Scáth smiled.

“You want me to be an assassin?” I had nearly laughed, if not for the spinning sensation still tickling the back of my mind.

“I’ve seen you fight,” he repeated, “and your grace… Remove the armor from you and you will truly be someone to be fear. The armor protected you against the enemy but it also stopped you from reaching your true potential. The Saoirse will train you to be what you were destined to be.”

“And who is it you would have me kill?” I asked.

“A revered priestess of Lolth named Sagart,” Scáth explained, pausing only for a moment to explain, “She is my sister.”

I raised an eyebrow. I had not expected that. “This Sagart is your sister?”

“Yes,” he replied solemnly. “As the High Priestess she picks who gets to ascend to Lolth’s honor. Those who ascend are given a test by Lolth herself. One of the people she picked, hoping to bring greater honor to our family was my younger brother. He failed. He was cast back down to the Mortal Realm from Lolth’s domain as one of the cursed Driders. I found him on the outskirts of Rúnda, where we live, and he was … no longer there mentally. Driven mad by what he’d become. He doesn’t even recognize me anymore. I’ve since chained him like a feral animal and go by to feed him so that he does not wander around the Underdark and get him killed. I want my sister killed for what she’s done.”

I felt like there might be more to this, but I agreed on the account that Scáth had saved my life.

“Here,” he said, handing me documentation. “I’ve created a new identity for you. You will go by Lorelei Darova. Avoid the battalion and you should be fine. Are you ready for some training?”

I noticed that I was feeling better after drinking the tea; and the thought crossed my mind that perhaps Scáth had poisoned me and fed me lies and that the cure to the toxin was in the tea itself, so that he could sway me.

I would accept his proposition to be trained as an assassin; and wondered if I would be coming after him if I learned the truth.