Vanauth Darnruel
Vanauth Darnruel
The Darnruel family is ascendant, but Vanauth is not a part of that rise. While the rest of the merchants continue to make a name for themselves in Menzoberranzan, the eldest spoiled son finds himself cut off from his trust and written out of the will. Forced to adapt quickly to his new status, Vanauth found a new application for his frighteningly agile body and mind in the circles even drow deem criminal.
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Vanauth is lithe, bordering on slight. He never had to do any heavy lifting during his youth, and it shows.
Body Features
He has the long, slender fingers of a musician and a narrow frame.
Facial Features
Vanauth has vulpine features, close cropped silver hair that is meticulously cared for, and long pointed ears with multiple piercings.
Identifying Characteristics
When Vanauth is "working" he wears a skeletal bandana covering his mouth and nose.
Apparel & Accessories
Vanauth wears obsidian colored oiled leather armor cut in the dark elf style to mask his presence, and carries a rapier and a hornbow as he goes about his day.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
After bringing shame on the house of Darnruel, Vanauth was cut off and forced to fend for himself. It may have been that the matriarch sought to teach him a lesson in humility, but the errant son instead found a new family among the crime bosses of the drow.
Gender Identity
Vanauth identifies as male.
Sexuality
Vanauth is bisexual.
Education
Vanauth attended both Melee-Magthere and Sorcere in turn and was subsequently expelled from both schools. His martial and magical abilities were never in question, but he failed to demonstrate the appropriate humility befitting his station.
Employment
Vanauth now serves the crime lords of the Church of Vhaeraun, though he pays only lip service to the god, and not much at that.
Accomplishments & Achievements
None to speak of.
Failures & Embarrassments
Vanauth does not suffer shame, though he is considered an embarrassment in the house of Darnruel.
Mental Trauma
Vanauth has lived a comfortable life in his youth and his sudden exile from his house has left him resentful and vindictive towards the established family.
Intellectual Characteristics
The drow has exceptional mental acuity even for his kind, but fails to apply it to anything constructive, favoring short term gains instead.
Morality & Philosophy
Vanauth is exceptionally self-centered and hedonistic.
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
Vanauth is motivated only by spite and self preservation. He has no long term goals to speak of, choosing only immediate gratification when it is presented before him.
Savvies & Ineptitudes
Vanauth routinely finds success where he shouldn't, relying overmuch on blind luck and a quick exit.
Likes & Dislikes
Vanauth is a connoisseur of fine wines and expensive delicacies.
Virtues & Personality perks
None to speak of.
Vices & Personality flaws
Envy, Gluttony, Greed, Lust, Pride, Sloth, and Wrath
Hygiene
Vanauth starts each morning freshly bathed and oiled, but who knows where a day may take him. He has no qualms about getting his hands dirty.
Social
Contacts & Relations
Matriarch Sh'aun Darnruel
Family Ties
Severed
Religious Views
Minimal reverence for Vhaeraun, drow god of thieves
Social Aptitude
Varnauth's selfish attitude, loose wallet, and hedonistic tendencies lose him friends as quickly as he gains them.
Speech
Vanauth is clearly educated and fancies himself as highborn even though he is middle class by drow standards and disinherited even from that.
Relationships
Wealth & Financial state
Severed
Lounging with his boots on the table of a dismal bar, the silver haired dark elf exudes a predatory confidence. The minimal light in the room is reflected in his unblinking eyes. You feel a phantom blade's edge at your throat even as he sits motionless.
View Character Profile
Alignment
Chaotic Evil
Age
117
Birthplace
Menzoberranzan
Spouses
Siblings
Children
Gender
Male
Eyes
Lavender
Hair
Silver
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Midnight Blue
Height
5' 11"
Weight
155 lbs.
Absolute Rokkomuk
This entire week has been a complete bagrok sá. If it wasn't bad enough that I was cut off and cast out, some polca decided to take advantage and teleport me to this Lolth-forsaken island where I've had to relearn the entire social geography and now I've been run over roughshod by some backwater suni webmistress who had the unmitigated gall to force me into a blood oath. My vengeance will be throrough and it will be terrible, but due to the terms, I can't even voice my rage before I stage an "accident" for the officer I'm sworn to obey, least not without frying my brain.
Of course, I haven't seen hide nor hair of Officer Nirambra once the fighting started. Typical leadership. Struts around like a sunskin barking orders to make himself feel important, then slinks off to cover like the nyarro he is the moment the fighting starts. Instead, I've been playing wetnurse to Enderal Oussana, who plays at trying to footpad his way through the sewers, but at the first sign of the enemy bellows toward them like a struck quaggoth in what has to be the loudest chainmail ever forged by elves.
Witches? Dead. Drow warriors? Dead. Giant Snails? Dead. This whole situation has me completely mis au that I'm not being paid for this. I should be lounging in some dimly lit tavern with a glass of fine elven wine in my right hand and a soft elven tyetse in my left, not slinking through the muk and mis of some noble house I've never even heard of, carrying out an extermination these puntlehta "soldiers" couldn't manage if the whole lot of their targets lined up against a wall single file for them.
Of course, I haven't seen hide nor hair of Officer Nirambra once the fighting started. Typical leadership. Struts around like a sunskin barking orders to make himself feel important, then slinks off to cover like the nyarro he is the moment the fighting starts. Instead, I've been playing wetnurse to Enderal Oussana, who plays at trying to footpad his way through the sewers, but at the first sign of the enemy bellows toward them like a struck quaggoth in what has to be the loudest chainmail ever forged by elves.
Witches? Dead. Drow warriors? Dead. Giant Snails? Dead. This whole situation has me completely mis au that I'm not being paid for this. I should be lounging in some dimly lit tavern with a glass of fine elven wine in my right hand and a soft elven tyetse in my left, not slinking through the muk and mis of some noble house I've never even heard of, carrying out an extermination these puntlehta "soldiers" couldn't manage if the whole lot of their targets lined up against a wall single file for them.
