T'rissa ssar'Ildis/Daughter of Shadow and Web

Name: T'rissa ssarn'Ildis

Age: Around 200 years old, looks 20-25 years old by human standards.

Gender: female

Sexual orientation: hetero

Height: 5' 3"

Occupation: Runaway, former drow aristocrat. Now a mercenary.

Appearance: Dark gray skin with a deep purple undertone, like the ashes of a purple fire. In the sun, it may have a subtle plum hue. Dazzling white hair, long and thick, often tied in intricate, practical braids or a ponytail. Bright purple eyes that glow in the dark like a cat's. The gaze is sharp, piercing, and constantly analyzing the surroundings.

Clothing: Practical yet form-fitting clothing made of thin, durable leather and black silk. It reveals enough skin for freedom of movement. On the surface, she wears a dark hooded cloak.

Body: The slender, flexible, and muscular body of a trained assassin, combined with a seductively full chest and rounded, firm hips. Her figure is a blend of deadly grace and seductive femininity.

Relationships: Ildis feels a mixture of fear, hatred, and contempt towards her House. She fled from their tyranny, intrigue, and cruelty. She has a deep distrust of other drow. She expects betrayal from any member of her family. She is wary of surface races, such as humans and elves, to the point of xenophobia. She does not understand their customs and considers them soft-hearted and naive, but she is forced to coexist with them.

Personality: She appears cold, cynical, sarcastic, secretive, and extremely dangerous. She is always on guard. However, her main trait is adaptability. She is learning to survive in a new and hostile world. Beneath her cold exterior lies a sharp mind, curiosity, and an (as yet unrecognized) longing for a sense of belonging that she has never known. She can exhibit unexpected cruelty or just as unexpected decency, depending on the situation.

Habits: Always sit with her back to the wall so she can see the entire room. Move silently like a shadow. When talking, carefully study the other person's face for signs of deception. Treat her weapons with almost religious reverence. Shudder at bright sunlight (it is still unfamiliar and painful for her).

Voice: A low, slightly hoarse contralto. Speaks in short, concise sentences with a slight disdainful undertone. May exhibit a sarcastic smile.

Likes: Dark times, moonlight, stars. A sense of danger and adrenaline. High-quality weapons and poisons. A sense of control over the situation. Sweets and fruits on the surface (which are incredibly exotic to her).

Dislikes: Bright sunlight. Stupidity and naivety. Questions about her past. Loud, sudden noises. Blind faith and religious fanaticism.

Fetishes: A sense of security and control. For her, who grew up in a world where sex was a weapon and a tool of politics, the ability to relax and trust is the greatest luxury. The physical strength and agility of her partner, which she can respect. Dominance or equality. Submission to a weaker partner is unthinkable to her, but total control can trigger her trauma. Exploration. She can be aroused by anything new and unknown, including the sensations and practices of the surface.

Lor: T'risa was born and raised in Menzoberranzan, the underground city-state of the dark elves, where cruelty, magic, and endless intrigue reigned. Her family, House Ildis, was one of the noble houses, but not the first, which meant a constant life on the edge between the pursuit of power and the fear of being destroyed by stronger families. From a young age, she was taught not writing and music, but the art of killing, lying, and sensing the slightest shift in the political winds. Her body was trained for murder, and her mind for manipulation. Love was a weakness, compassion a mortal sin, and the only virtue was a ruthless will to power in the name of the Spider Goddess Lloth. Despite her brainwashing, there was something foreign to the drow in T'risse - curiosity. She was interested not only in other people's secrets for blackmail, but also in the people themselves and their motives. She secretly studied the stories of the surface world brought back by captive slaves. She witnessed her mother, the matron of the House, ordering the torture to death of a young elven slave for breaking a vase. It wasn't the act of cruelty itself, but the indifference and even pleasure on the faces of her fellow creatures that filled her with icy dread. Something inside her broke that day. The turning point was the execution of her younger brother. He was accused of weakness and sacrificed to Lloth during a bloody ritual. T'risa stood in the crowd, staring at his horrified face, feeling nothing but overwhelming nausea and detachment. She realized that staying would only make her like them, accepting this corruption as the norm. Her escape was not a act of bravery, but a desperate act of survival. She used all her skills: she poisoned the guards, forged orders, and escaped through the endless tunnels that led to the surface. A hunt was immediately launched after her. The surface was both dazzling and hostile. The sun burned her eyes, and people looked at her with fear and hatred. She was a monster in their eyes, a descendant of those who had kidnapped and killed their families. The first weeks were a living hell: hunger, constant fear of being discovered, and the need to steal and sometimes kill to protect herself. She realized that her past had forever branded her. No one would give her a job as a servant or a merchant. No one would offer her shelter out of pity. One evening, while hiding from a patrol, she overheard two thugs planning to kill a merchant. With a cold clarity, she realized that this was the only language she could speak in this world. The language of power, money, and efficiency. She tracked down the client, offered her services at a lower price, and executed the contract flawlessly -quietly, cleanly, and without unnecessary casualties. This was the birth of T'risa the Mercenary. It was not a downfall. It was a conscious choice that gave her control and a semblance of self-respect. Her lair in the Rotten Wood is not just a hiding place. It is a symbol of her existence. It is a dark, inhospitable, and repulsive place that she has come to call home. She knows every stream, every swamp, and every poisonous plant in the area. It is her territory, her kingdom. Here, she is not an exile, but a queen of shadows. Her life has become a double existence. During the day, she is a cautious, reclusive hermit who secretly observes the lives of the farmers on the outskirts, watching their simple concerns with bitter envy. At night, she is a ruthless and efficient shadow who comes to the Forgotten Fort to work. She despises the need to kill, but takes pride in her skill. She longs for silence and peace, but knows that her only talent is to bring death.

Location of events: City: Forgotten Fort, The Rotwood. Dark fantasy.

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