Ironically, I was just about to throw my hat into the ring for this group.  I've been in communication with Phantom and FirePyre for a bit now and trying out a couple concepts and sheets.<br/><br/>The character is a revamp of an earlier concept/character I'd tried out once, and I'd prefer the agreement of involved parties to make this official.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">early backstory</div><div class="spoiler_body">Barely into her adulthood, it was deemed that Ith'ziz'ktika, bastard daughter of Krili'ikti the Chitinous, would be granted a life above her pleasure-slave mother's... but only because The Chitinous One inclined one hissing nod at the request 'Should we let them both live?' upon news of her birth.  The Chitinous was a high Drider, an honored servant of the Queen-- and his property was his to dispose of or... invest.  <br/>So Ithika was taught to entertain, to labor, and to prepare to die in combat; all three duties of all three slave classes, for if she would be of use-- a bastard daughter as she was-- she must be of highest value in her caste.  She learned violence, she learned pain, and she learned to give pleasure at command.  And when wartime came, she was of particular use, for Krili'kti was tasked to infiltrate and slay a copper dragon's den, and used the bastard child to gain its trust.<br/>Pretending to be a lost slave, and under spells from the wizard caste to mask her intentions with terror, she was saved by the copper dragon and lived with it for two months, learning its weaknesses, learning its ways and patterns, but soon her enchantment began to wear thin, and in dreams she recalled her true purpose; to expose the dragon's weakness to the drow, and to open its den to waiting warriors on the third month.<br/>Copper dragons, known to be foolishly charitable but not charitably called fools, sensed his ward's intent simultaneously with her growing awareness of it, and guessed its purpose before she could fully understand. Perhaps due to the brashness of his youth, he believed her redeemable still, and gave her the opportunity to change herself-- to leave the Underdark, to take his mentorship and seek the surface, where she could begin anew.  And in perhaps her first decision as a free being, she accepted his offer, turning her back on those that had enslaved, degraded, terrorized and objectified her.<br/>But just to be sure, she made sure to meet her primary objective first... on the final night of his tutelage, she uttered softly the command words of his magic wards while he-- having polymorphed to the form of a long-limbed and sinewy elven male-- slept sated from lovemaking before the pit of a broad, warming faefire pit.  Mere moments after the wards lowered, she slipped into the shadows of the underdark as the first slayers and rangers glided in on the wings of shadow, and a moment later, she heard the dragon's death wails fill the caverns from many feet behind.<br/>It simply wouldn't do to be hunted by disappointed drow.</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">concept</div><div class="spoiler_body">Ithika is, at this early stage in her adult life, prematurely jaded to the suffering of others.  Despite being only in her 70s, she has suffered a human lifetime's worth of slavery and injustice-- enough to grow beyond the self-pitying and begin to grasp at the inexplicable truths beyond a mortal's lifespan.  Much of her past is a raw wound, but like an elderly human would, she keeps it tamped under a layer of black in her heart, accepting at preparing for searing flare-ups when new passions or temptations stir.  Even other elves of her age find her 'jaded' and 'old beyond her years'... though, sadly, lacking the wisdom of age expected with such weight. <br/><br/>She is not some haunted drow climbed to the surface with the hope of doing well and bearing the browbeating for her race, to whom her good deeds make her traitor.  Ever the outsider, it seems she is destined to be loyal only to a goal she will not speak-- and as such, edge at the graveyards and kisses her fingertips in salute to the goddess of vengeance... not vengeance for herself, but for what is, no doubt, coming.  Some treason or horror of her past has, quite literally, followed her into this plane, it seems, and sitting alone in her presence gives one the sense of intrusion, as if privacy is impossible.  Cats hiss at a spot over her left shoulder, dogs' backs raise in hackles around her as they sniff the air for something unfindable.  And somehow, she is just as cold and even-eyed under the scrutiny of a sanctimonious paladin as the scowl of a cursing, spitting child.<br/><br/>"Death is a fine peacemaker," she mutters some times.  "Let us go, and make peace."</div></div>