Pronouns: Any.

Appearance:

One can't say for certain what Rhotae truly looks like, after all he takes on many forms with many names. Rhotae being one of them.

As Rhotae, she stands at 5'6" tall with polished slate-grey skin, sprinkled with faint phosphorescent freckles that appear to shine like a rainbow in the light. Their hair is a silvery-white, cut short. Their eyes are a brilliant lavender that glow with an almost ethereal quality, one might even mistake them for the very Amethysts that grow upon the cavernous walls of the Underdark itself.

Story:

Everybody has a story, some extraordinary with multiple events shaping who they are, guiding their actions and providing them a reason to go on their journey; others however are far more mundane, but no less important. Rhotae's story sat somewhere in-between.

Born of the union between a Drow Fighter mother and Deep Gnome Warlock father, Rhotae grew up in a loving household. He spent his days learning how to read and write from his father Forim, as well as the different schools of magic, or at least he tried to. Unfortunately, Rhotae struggled with the spells, but not in the way most would think; she understood the necessity of the components, the movements, and the words that were needed to make the magic happen. How each part worked together like a finely oiled machine, each cog, every mechanism, moving in perfect harmony to create a glorious wonder from one's fingertips. The problem was, nothing ever happened when she tried. Sure, they didn't have a Patron like their father, and their mother, Catella, focused purely on physical skills, but they really thought.. no, hoped they might have been able to achieve some kind of magic; after all, he didn't have the physical prowess to follow in his mother's footsteps. Still, this didn't stop him from studying hard every single day and learning the deepest fundamentals and sciences behind the magic.

Apart from her lacking magic, Rhotae's life was pretty uneventful for the most part; that was until she fell seriously ill. She had started to notice that the verbal components for spells were becoming more difficult, often finding herself having to take short pauses between sentences to catch her breath before continuing. At first they thought this might be the result of getting closer to finally succeeding, the strain meaning they were right there on the cusp of a magnificent display of magical wonders, but alas that was not the case, and soon Rhotae was struggling to breathe without so much as even moving.