Bhintel

A Drow Ranger (Hunter), Member of the Brotherhood

Description:

Background: Drow – Outcast
You killed three Drow women, all members of the religious hierarchy, to protect your uncle, Ildan. Where in some cultures the defense of your uncle would seem heroic, in the Drow world you committed the gravest of sins. You have been running from the Underdark ever since.

Prestige Class: Peerless Hunter
As your mastery of both ranged weapons and primal magic increases, you learn to unleash ever more powerful attacks against your enemies. You are ready to wander the planes, seeking out threats to the world that lie far beyond the wilderness paths you once followed.

Mount: Crodlu

Bio:

Life in the Underdark is never an easy thing to survive, especially if you are a male Drow. The Drow culture is almost militantly female, a trait you recognized from an early age. Some of your best friends were sacrificed to the spider goddess, Lolth. You were treated as second-class and inferior, all because you were not born a woman. But you took solace in the one fact that any male Drow does – you would be trained in the art of war. Your teacher, your uncle Ildan, was one of the best bowmen in the Underdark and taught you the skills you needed most: how to aim, how to be precise, learning to take your time as a true shot is needed to slay a foe. He was kind – a trait unseen in most of the Drow adults you encountered.

You lived a life of weapon mastery and fear of the altar of Lolth. Day after day, the world spun around the prayer that you would not be given over bodily to the Spider Goddess. And this was your existence – until the day they came for him. Waking one morning to angry voices, you awoke in the small house you and your uncle shared and moved quickly and quietly to the window. Your uncle was on his knees, bleeding from the forehead. A Drow cleric in chain mail, holding a now-bloodied mace, stood in front of him, as two other Drow acolytes in robes jeered.

“Ildan Cormreal,” the cleric purred, “your time has come. You will be offered to the Spider Goddess this day. Get him up.”

The next three minutes of your life sped by in the blink of an eye. You remember a white-hot fury rising in your face…and running. After that it was all a blur. But when you came to, you found yourself with your uncle’s bow in your hand, one arrow at your feet. The two acolytes were lying on the ground, their robes staining red. One had an arrow lodged firmly between her eyes; the other was shot in the heart. The cleric was sprawled across the ground, five arrows sticking out of the armor on her chest. Your uncle stared at you, a mix of amazement and fright. He pulled himself up, grabbed you by the arm and dragged you into the house as you started to shake.

Ildan tore through the house, putting items into a backpack as the realization of what just happened ripped through you. Just as you were about to pass out, Ildan grabbed you by the shoulders. “Listen, boy,” he said quickly, tears nearly in his eyes. “You have to run. Now. They will come back and try to kill you. Take this pack, take my bow, and take the arrows. Head north through the Black Caves. There’s a shaft that will lead you to the surface. Live well, and know that I will see you again someday. Run, nephew! It’s the only way to stay alive. Go!”

He roused you to action with a massive hug goodbye and soon you were running through the Black Caves toward the exit to the land. You would later learn the swampy land you came through was the country of Baris on the continent of Ethra. You never saw your uncle – or the Underdark – again. Your life there has haunted you, but you have carved a history of your own. Maybe one day, you’ll forget…

Bhintel

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