Drow Female

The shape in the mirror was that of perfection: yours. An improvement on even what the Gods had made. Those “High Elf” cousins may have been born of Varissa, but your Drow ancestors, suffering their indignities and betrayals, became even better whilst hiding and waiting in the dark corners of the world for their time to strike. Your nudity allowed all of your body to show in the dim light of the torches, not that you need it to see. You brush your hands along your smooth dark skin, moving upwards as you run your fingers through your white hair. Below, your body is shaped to entice, not just to fight. Though the orcs and particularly humans claim greater appeal due to the tendencies of their breasts and butts to be of an appealing size, you know the dark secrets. Though they would never dare admit it due to how taboo it would be, but you are the one all the males long for, that they would give up anything to have. Your glide your hands over your perky breasts and your long, soft legs, ample bait to tantalize friend and foe alike, with equal success. Your body is as much a weapon as anything else, when you need it to be.

As much as your body is an asset, it cannot by itself get you out of this mysterious, circular and gated pit. To do that, you scour the accouterments on the wall for a solution. Even your supernatural vision does not give you any easy answers for how you got here, or how you may get yourself out. The weapons, books, and other odds and ends are a peculiarity unto themselves. Though nearly all of them look and reek of the make of the surface world, they still somehow ring out to you as if you’ve seen them before, or even that they belong to you. It’s a preposterous notion, and yet one that cannot be easily shaken as you finally reach for something.