|Denar Valravn by anarkeith|
The Vault-master shifted the lamp, a bowl of omphalotus, to cast more light on the spidery script that crabbed the face of the scroll before him. The bilious glow of the fungi, redoubled by the multi-faceted lenses of the lamp, wavered as the tottering mushrooms reacted to the movement. The script so enthralled him that he didn’t bother to glance up when the door of his study was flung open and an armored figure noisily strode across the room to slump into the chair opposite.
The War-master coughed unceremoniously. “You’ve a long list there. Would that I were so fortunate.”
“Many of the candidates are unsuitable,” said the Vault-master. He picked at the scroll with a talon-like nail. “This De’nar’hethi, for example. Her clan has always served the blada d'thalack, yet she appears on my list?”
“Too small. And a Disciple of Vice, to add insult to injury. Always ordering everyone about.”
The Vault-master grinned. “I thought that to be an ideal qualification for the Council of War.”
“Hardly. I want those who follow orders. I will do the ordering about myself.”
“And how am I supposed to use her then?”
“Make her a guard,” the War-master shrugged. “Umbra knows she can fight better than most of the scavengers in the mist-above. She’ll keep your beady-eyed scholars alive long enough maybe they’ll even find something we can use down here.”
The Vault-master sighed. “It may appear a long list to you. But the har'ol d'veldrin grow fewer each day. The surface is near as perilous as the Khyberic depths, it seems.”
“All the better reason to make De’nar’hethi har'ol d'veldrin, then. Find me a weapon to win this war, or we’ll all be living on your ‘perilous’ surface with its pox-ridden mist.”
It was the Vault-master’s turn to shrug. “What of her clan, will the Veldrin d'avuna not seek to avenge the slight?”
“Valravn is out of favor with the Council at the moment. Denar’s penchant for officiousness is a clan trait. And they’ve bristled the spines of more than a few great Houses.”
“If she finds a weapon to wield against the daelkyr, Valravn will see their fortunes restored.”
“And how likely is that, oh master of the har'ol d'veldrin?” the War-master asked with an acid laugh.
“She will have to search the length and breadth of Khorvaire, I fear,” the Vault-master replied. “And possibly beyond. I cannot imagine a weapon mighty enough to stay the aberrant horde.”
“Iblith! Imagine it. Forge it. Pull it out of your puckered arse. But find me a weapon and soon, or we’ll be just another band of scavengers picking at the corpse of Cyre above until the daelkyr decide to take that too!”
“I’ll send Denar up then. Perhaps she can ‘order’ the light-dwellers to re-fire one of their Creation Forges, or beat the secrets out of one of their great Houses?”
“She’s too short. She’ll be killed. But at least I won’t have to listen to my officers complain about her.”
“I’m sure the masters of the Vault will make their feelings about her known to me, once they’ve had the pleasure of meeting her.”
“She’s your problem now, master. I’ve got bigger lights to snuff.”
Nindol zhah l' fa'la zatoast
"This is the bastard." De’nar’hethi Veldrin d’avuna introduces her sword to a foe.
Drow society rewards passion and authority. The ability to amass and retain personal power is the only measure of any drow’s worth. Therefore, drow settlements are full of internal struggles for dominance barely concealed under a veneer of normalcy.
— Forgotten Realms Campaign GuideDenar is short. And short-tempered. And not above hamstringing an unsuspecting foe from behind. She is also fond of explosives, corrosives, and any device that burns, cuts, or maims.
Mannerisms and Appearance
Denar speaks bluntly, and has little patience for (or understanding of) complex matters. She often draws the edge of her sword across the exposed portion of her shield arm before striking, and has numerous scars there as proof of the habit.
De’nar’hethi Veldrin d’avuna, or Denar Valravn in common, is an agent of the har'ol d'veldrin — the Vault of Shadows, an organization devoted to the search for ways to increase the mystical power of her race, and to preserve it against the rising tide of aberrations that threaten them. She aspired to be a part of the blada d'thalack — the Council of War, and to fight against the aberrations. However, due to her slight stature, the Council instead assigned her to the Vault of Shadows.