<strong>Name</strong>: Omaras Auvryzynge, eldest male of house Auvryzynge. Omaras means 'Tattooed wizard'. His mother, now deceased, former matron of house Auvryzynge, decided upon his birth that he would be a house wizard. Calling him tattooed was a humor at the childs' expense, because the Auvryzynge women have a history of being very oppressive of their males.<br/><br/><strong>Gender</strong>: Male<br/><strong>Class</strong>: Wizard<br/><br/><strong>History</strong>: Omaras was the eldest male child of Felyn'breena Auvryzynge, the former matron of the same house. He was not Felyn'breena's first child, however; Three females preceded him. Sbatafay, the eldest and next in line to be matron, Yaskiira, the most cunning and ambitious of the three, and Luamur'ss, who was several decades younger than Yaskiira and very obedient to the middle sister. Omaras was nursed, raised, and made obedient by Yaskiira, and when she usurped Sbatafay and Felyn'breena, Omaras made no quarrel, and was spared as his eldest sister and mother were killed in cold blood; He did not mourn their deaths.<br/><br/>This all happened when he was still a relatively young drow, and before he attended Sorcere. Despite his pre-destined calling as a wizard, Omaras was tall and strong, and might have made a very good swordsman if he were allowed to wield. Even so, during his tutelage at Sorcere, the wizard's academy, Omaras learned to wield a sword and to manipulate the Weave, the fabric of magic throughout all of Toril. When he had accumulated enough talent and merit to leave Sorcere several decades later, he was one of the most powerful wizards in Menzoberranzan, and could only count on two hands his better's, including Gromph Baenre.<br/><br/>When he returned to house Auvryzynge, however, he discovered his younger brother, Marantar, the youngest living child of Felyn'breena, had taken his place as Patron Father of the house, which disturbed Omaras greatly. Not because it was an incestuous relationship... Incest within the Auvryzynge household was fact, and among the Menzobarranzanites, a rumor. He was disturbed because it was his youngest brother, who was only a toddler when Felyn'breena was murdered, and several decades younger than he, a powerful mage and graduate of Sorcere, had become the most powerful male within his own household. Naturally, Omaras was at a crossroads in his life. He had never before questioned the ruling of his older sister, Matron Yaskiira, but he desired her greatly, and saught to usurp his younger brother, who rightfully should have been licking Omaras's boots. But to remove Marantar would go against Yaskiira's wishes... He could either do as he pleases for his own gain, or continue to be his sister's obedient sock puppet. Within a month of his return to Sorcere, Marantar was dead, and autopsies revealed his heart had exploded in his own chest... Of course, Omaras denied any part in his brothers death, and was soon taken as the Patron Father. Of course, Yaskiira knew all along that it was Omaras who had killed Marantar, but it did not displease her that he did so.<br/><br/>More than a century passed as the Auvryzynge house experienced great favor, highly elevated because they possessed such a powerful house Wizard, who doubled as his sister's stud. After giving her two sons and two daughters, however, the two of them had a sort of falling out. They had never been terribly fond of one another; To love was to err in drow society. Perhaps Omaras lost her favor, or he simply stopped being attracted to her, or perhaps Yaskiira came to resent her brother's power, which was almost an equal to her Lloth-given gifts. This was Yaskiira's own crossroad; Either she could permit him to live and keep a valuable asset to her house, or kill him and prove her power to the whole Household. At such a young age, their oldest daughter, Dhauneari, a student at Arach-Tinilith, only five decades old, was already thirsty for power within her own household. But before any harm could come to Omaras, the wizard made the first move, and made his permanent residence outside of House Auvryzynge. It was not treason to Yaskiira, but it was the closest he could get without inspiring her wrath.<br/><br/><strong>Personality</strong>: Some drow have blood that runs hotter than the great scorching eye that burned the surface of Toril, but not Omaras. He is always a cool and collected person, even under the most hectic circumstances, and doesn't even raise his voice to his own servants. Their fear of him is earned not by harsh words, but by the pain he inspires in them through magic or sheer brutality. He is perverse, and enjoys the touch of naked flesh, though it is hardly among the abnormal in the Underdark. There is an ingrained subservience about him, but it can only be drawn out by those of a higher station, or those who speak with a very forceful tongue. He cannot help it; It was how he was brought to heel so many times as a child by his older sisters and mother. Many regard his silent thoughtfulness and male gender, and then dismiss him as being weak or oafish; It is much to Omaras's advantage that they undervalue him so greatly.<br/><br/><strong>Ideology and radical beliefs</strong>: Despite his natural subservient nature, Omaras, over the years, has begun to adopt a school of thought, only preached in the darkest corners of Menzoberranzan,teaches that Lloth greatly favors her son Vhaeraun over the rest of her flock, and that males are the rightful heirs to the houses of Menzoberranzan and that female favor is at its' end. Understandably, he is quite hush about his beliefs.<br/><br/>(http://img101.imageshack.us/img101/9435/ca0807057219389.jpg)<br/><br/>Roleplay Example:<br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">It was midday, according to the red glow at the tip of Narbondel, and Omaras was resting in his bedchamber, deep in thought. A candle flickered beside his bed, a rare sight in any corner of the Underdark. Unfortunately, it was necessary to write beside, for Omaras was penning his thoughts in a journal he kept, and wrote in nearly every day. It was a habit he had picked up in Sorcere, and it had not been forgotten in lieu of his many other habits, which included assassination of his political enemies, finding fresh slaves or whores to bring to his bed, drinking wine until he could not stand, or dealing with his dear sister, the matron of Auvryzynge. Speaking of whom... thinking about Yaskiira made him remember his daughter, Dhauneari, who had paid him a visit earlier. He chewed on the end of his quill, just thinking about her. Yes, she was something special, even at such a young age.<br/><br/>She might have completely surprised him if not for the slew of magical wards that protected his chambers, in a tower in the heart of the Narboldellyn district. Despite his great power, Dhauneari had managed her way to his chambers mostly unharmed, though she was not entirely unscathed. One forearm was bloody and ragged, and her gown was torn open, giving the father a generous sight of Dhauneari's small breasts and trimmed navel, complete with a ruby piercing through her belly button. He had listened to her quarrel with two giant stone dogs that were positioned down the hall from his door... 'Mastiffs', they were called on the surface. When an unwelcome visitor challenged his door, they sprang to life with the greatest viciousness. Omaras was quite impressed that she had managed to subdue them... The girl was quie powerful, even if she was still a student at Arach-Tinilith. "Daughter," Dhauneari said, lifting his glass of wine in a toast to her as she closed the portal behind her. Blood dripped off her arm, pooling on the floor, disturbing Omaras and his very neat nature. Dhauneari did not seem so amused as he. <strong>"Shutter the lights, Omaras,"</strong> she asked... Or commanded, by the tone of her voice. Omaras bit his lip, to prevent a wide smile from splaying on his face, and put one hand over the tiny flame, killing it, inspiring some pain in him. It was deliberate; Omaras was not afraid of a tiny burn, and welcomed the pain.<br/><br/>"Dhauneari, you know, next time you come to visit your beloved father... There are ways of summoning me without bullying your way through my defenses." Something he knew about his daughter, besides her power, was her immense stubbornness. He knew that she knew about The bell-rope that would have roused him in his chambers. She perhaps just wanted to test Omaras's defenses, or to test herself against them. <strong>"Too late now,"</strong> she said with a slight scowl, seating herself on his bed. She tore a piece of his fine sheets and began to wrap it around her forearm, perhaps too impatient to pray to Lloth and restore her arm herself. He chewed on his lip, slighted by her carelessness towards his property. Female or male, he was still her superior, though he was only a single rung above her on that ladder. And it was not because he was Patron or perhaps former Patron of Auvryzynge, or because he was the head mage of Auvryzynge, OR because he was her father. It was because he could separate the flesh from her bones with the blink of an eye.<br/><br/><strong>"Omaras, I come to ask you a... Hypothetical question,"</strong> she started, looking slyly at him before rising to her feet and striding over to where he sat at his desk, still hunched over his papers, the words he could no longer see without the help of the flame. The wizard did not turn to regard her, but cocked his head to the side curiously. "How could I entertain you?" He asked thoughtfully, though there was a backdrop of sarcasm. Dhauneari rested one hand on his shoulder, her firm grip straightening his spine and putting some wariness into his head, but then her other hand fell onto his opposite shoulder and began to knead at his flesh. Despite himself, he relaxed a great deal, even offering a content sigh in return. He knew what she was doing now, knew what she would ask even before she asked it.<br/><br/><strong>"Father,"</strong> she said endearingly, even though Omaras knew she held no love for her father; It was reciprocated, of course. <strong>"Hypothetically, if Tiriel Baenre offered her body and favors to Gromph Baenre, and in return she asked that the archmage pledge his loyalty to Tiriel when she rebelled against her mother... Do you think Gromph would obey his sister's wishes?"</strong> His heart was beating wildly at his daughter's offer, for it was not a hypothetical situation at all, but a clear suggestion. Dhauneari wanted Omaras's favor in the event that she attempt to usurp her mother, his sister Matron Yaskiira, and she was willing to make him Patron of Auvryzynge once again if she came to power. It seemed like a win-win scenario at first thought... Dhauneari was young, pliable, every bit as beautiful as his sister, and Omaras would be a valuable ally in a coup. But... Omaras knew how stubborn his daughter was. Was he willing to serve under another Auvryzynge matriarch, when by all rights the house should be under male leadership? He doubted any female matron would willingly give her seat up in favor of a male. Perhaps... Perhaps Dhauneari would be much easier to manipulate, or destroy, than Yaskiira. She was much younger, and though powerful, her powers as a priestess of Lloth were still being cultivated.<br/><br/>Omaras stood from his chair, and slowly turned to face his daughter, his face expressionless. He wondered, if he denied her now, would she try to kill him? A whip was strapped to his daughter's hip, and if she so desired, she could draw it before he could draw another breath. If she wanted to wield it against him, however, he was more than prepared to deal with her. It would be a gruesome battle, and he was loathe to ruin his apartment. Omaras rested a hand on his daughter's shoulder, and leaned in to kiss her on the neck, nibbling on her soft flesh. "I suppose if I was Gromph Baenre," he mumbled against her jugular, "I would benefit greatly if Tiriel was seated into power."<br/><br/>That was a couple of hours ago, already. His sheets were a mess. Not only had Dhauneari torn them, blood had dripped from her dressings during their wild lovemaking, and the moisture of sex and sweat was all over the bed, the smell permeating the room. He had pledged his support to Dhauneari's coup, but that was just to appease his daughter, and apparent new lover. He was still stricken with indecision... Yaskiira, his sister, who had weaned him at birth and taken him to her bed numorous times, or Dhauneari, a much more impressionable, though sometimes very stubborn woman who was as amorous as she was powerful? It would take many days of deliberation to weigh the consequences of each choice. He smiled as he closed his journal, still thinking about his daughter.</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br/>Omaras is partially inspired by Thomas Cromwell of The Tudors.