Tazennin's page

Magical Knack (Ranger [Deep Walker]) +2 CL for a specific class, to a max of your HD.

Exotic Weapon Proficiency (elven curve blade) You are proficient with the elven curve blade.

Point-Blank Shot +1 to attack and damage rolls with ranged weapons at up to 30 feet.

Precise Shot You don't get -4 to hit when shooting or throwing into melee.

Acrobatics +8
Climb +3
Escape Artist +6
Handle Animal +3
Intimidate +3
Perception +8
Ride +10
Sense Motive +2
Stealth +12
Survival +6 (+8 to avoid becoming lost)
Swim +7

Equipped leather armor, armored kilt, elven curve blade, mwk composite longbow (+3 Str)
Backpack bedroll, hemp rope (50 ft.), trail rations (5), waterskin
Belt pouch antitoxin (2), smokestick (2), tanglefoot bag, compass, 2 gp

Tazennin is short by drow standards which suits him just fine. There isn’t an ounce of fat on his body as he is extremely lean and wiry, his body composed of skin, bone, and muscle. His movements are swift and purposeful, his fingers light and his touch subtle. He has coarse long stark white hair, tied back with a leather thong and coal black skin. A constant mocking smile is always on his lips, showing his straight pearly white teeth. He would be considered attractive if there was an ounce of genuine mirth to his disposition. A very large intricately carved wooden bow is grasped firmly in his hands, and a long curved single-edged sword is sheathed over one shoulder. A quiver full of black fletched arrows hangs at his hip, over a black leather kilt that ends just past his knees. His leather armor is heavily oiled and supple, dyed black to match the shadows in which Tazennin stalks.

Tazennin has no affiliation with a house, he is what the drow call a “dobluth” or exile, having been cast out of House Sathys just prior to it’s collapse. He is primarily interested in perfecting the art of killing with the bow, driven by the thought of felling his enemies from afar with a well-placed arrow before fading into obscurity. Otherwise, his true weakness lies in his obsession with wealth. Taz believes that wealth is the true source of power among the drow, as everything has it’s price, and therefore only has interest in the machinations and schemings of drow society when a hefty purse is involved.

The day had finally come. Today, House Sathys would launch their campaign against the golden-haired surface devils. The initiative that would finally gain their house the prestige it needed to secure a seat among the greater houses of Taaryssia. Tazennin spent most of the previous night oiling his armor and weapons, and running along the roofs of their housing complex, hoping the exhaustion might help him sleep.

Restless in his eagerness to kill, Tazennin rose with the others at the hour of dawn. Their plan was simple: Their lightly-armored unit was to slip silently along the cavern wall bordering the fungal jungle, positioning themselves to strike at the elven bowmen. Meanwhile, the main force of ground troops would pass through the jungle itself, silencing any wildlife they may come in contact with. As they engaged the bulk of the elven force, Taz’s unit would assault the archers, using their poisoned bolts to incapacitate their foes whilst dropping globes of darkness to sow chaos among their ranks. The enemy would surely break and run once they realized their ranged support had been wiped out. The drow would give chase, ultimately bursting forth through the Earth’s Wound onto the surface, spreading like a black plague to wreak havoc upon the homelands of their light-blinded “cousins”. Too easy.

The commander of the ground forces signaled to them that they were ready and Tazennin sped off with the other runners, silently padding along the cavern wall. This was the moment he lived for, the few fleeting seconds before the kill. The shadows concealed their every movement and after a few short moments, they spotted the ranks of the elven longbowmen. Hidden among the shadows of the stalagmites, there was no chance they could be spotted. Tazennin tensed as he anticipated the order to attack. Just as their squad leader was about to signal, something went wrong. Terribly, fatally wrong. The row upon row of elven archers turned as one to face their position. And to their utter horror, they drew arrows from their quivers and pulled their bowstrings taught. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, and then they loosed as one. A wall of barbed death descended upon them and their screams rent the darkness. All around him, Tazennin watched in the fuzzy black and white of his darkvision as arrows tore through their ranks. Some drow screamed as arrows pierced vital organs, others fled to dark holes in the earth.

The few of them that survived the initial barrage quickly shored up their ranks and charged, hoping to engage the elves before the second volley of arrows finished them off. Tazennin screamed in crazed jubilation as his rapier skewered the throat of a panicked elf. Two feathered arrows thunked into his buckler, one of them piercing the skin of his forearm, and he gave a cry of pain. As the first elven corpse slid off the tip of his sword he whipped his blade around, slicing the throat of another.

Taz quickly realized that they were heavily outnumbered and to stay and fight was to die, so he sprinted away from the melee, hoping the smokestick he dropped would cover his retreat. He scanned the horizon for the largest mushroom he could find and quickly clambered up it’s stalk, taking refuge in the shadows cast by it’s wide cap. Heart racing, he struggled to catch his breath, but his position yielded an open vantage point to the grisly battlefield below. The drow were being beaten back on all fronts, the main force having suffered the worst of the casualties. After their small flanking unit was annihilated, the archers turned their efforts to the main body of the drow army and row upon row of dark skinned elves died to their arrows. All Taz could do was watch as dozens of his housemates died. The main force of the elven army carved a swath through the ranks of the drow, the bulk of the damage coming from elves wielding long, slender two-handed curved blades. Blood sprayed across rocks and ferns as drow were dismembered by the handful.

Fortunately, the battle was over just as Taz’s muscles began to burn. The jungle was silent save for the scattered death throes of the dying. Taz tentatively made his way back down to the cavern floor, dropping low, using his darkvision to sense any movement. There was none, so he continued on, making his way back down further into the complex. He was just about to break off into their tunnels when he spotted a body just ahead, it’s long yellow hair matted with blood. Curious, he turned the body over with the toe of his boot and the “corpse” sprang to life, thrusting a dagger straight up at his midsection! Only his exceptional reflexes saved his life as Tazennin quickly dodged backwards, and in the same motion ripped his rapier from it’s sheath. The woman’s lower half appeared to have been crushed, for all she could do was claw at the ground, slashing the dagger back and forth. She snarled up at him, but her curses were reduced to bloody gurgles. He flicked his rapier at the woman’s wrist, causing her to drop the knife. His smile was cold and deadly as he once again sheathed his sword and knelt down next to the woman, taking up her dagger. He looked into her emerald green eyes, their spark dim and fading fast. He caressed the edge of her porcelain cheek with the razor edge, smiling down at her, mocking her. ”While I do admire your spirit, today was simply not your day.” He traced the point of the knife down to where her heart lay, and ever so slowly began applying pressure, enjoying watching her squirm and shake. ”Shhhh, shhhh. Sleep now, my kin. Embrace oblivion.” Deeper and deeper the blade went, until, finally, she was still, the flicker of life in her eyes snuffed out like a candle, tears running down her cheeks like hot wax spilled over a bedside table.

Taz was about to stand and sprint off when he noticed the large recurve bow laying a few feet from her outstretched hand. Remembering the devastation the elven archers had wrought with their screaming arrows, Tazennin kicked the yellow-haired corpse out of the way and picked up the bow. Running his ebony fingers over the rich wood, he studied the intricate patterns of currents of air, leaves, and sunbursts carved into the large bow. He tested it’s pull and strained to draw the bow fully, snorting at the thought of the woman being stronger than him. Shrugging, he slung the bow over his shoulder and picked up the fallen quiver of arrows. He was turning to leave when the long handle of the curved two-handed blade caught his eye, barely visible through her tangled hair. Quickly, he unbuckled the sheath and pulled the weapon free, wrapping the belt around his fist before taking off. Without a glance back he sprinted to the tunnels leading deeper into the bedrock, uncertain of what to expect when he returned to the Sathys compound.

Tazennin and the other survivors of House Sathys laid low for the next few days, but word quickly spread throughout Taaryssia of their failed attack and their obvious vulnerability. Tazennin made use of this time by examining his pilfered weapons. He borrowed some tools from their blacksmith and began changing the carvings on the bow to suit his interests. The flowing currents of air became a tangle of pulsing veins, the leaves transformed into blood clots, and the sunbursts were now hemorrhaging organs. He was fascinated by the deep grain of the hardwood and how much more durable it seemed than their grey wood. Then he considered the blade. It was long and curved and razor sharp--he imagined it would be very deadly in the right hands. His hands, of course. He began practicing on the dummies in the courtyard in the dead of night, often dropping smokesticks to obscure his vision before wading in. His slashes, cuts, and overhand chops made quick work of the padded practice dummy and he was forced to replace more than one.

It was during one of these nocturnal training sessions that he was finally discovered. Much as he would pounce on an enemy unawares, a number of house guards materialized out of the darkness and seized him. Drovic, the interim commander of Sathys’ forces, demanded what he was doing with the elven weapons, ”Explain why I shouldn’t cut you down where you stand.” But just as Tazennin was about to answer, the alarm sounded as wave upon wave of black-armored soldier descended upon their grounds like a black surging tide. The moment they all knew was coming had finally arrived: another house was making their move against House Sothys. As his captors turned to meet the attackers, Tazennin turned and fled. Drovic’s shouts trailed him as the sounds of battle rang out, ”Tazennin! Traitor to House Sothys! Dobluth! I’m coming for you!” Tazennin returned to his room, hastily gathered what posesssions he could, and fled into untamed wilderness beyond the bounds of Taaryssia.