▏pact & related info.

ㅤㅤㅤDRAVEN came to Trinity while she was submerged in the frigid depths of the ocean – right as she was about to cross the threshold into the Fugue Plane. It was there he revealed his true nature as a millennia-old lich, and offered her a pact : eternal undeath, in exchange for her servitude.

ㅤㅤㅤOh, how she longed to refuse him, for he planted a seed of resentment within her, a seed that sprouted into a rose of pure hatred, its thorns sharpened by years of unforgiving torment at the Weathermaster’s hands.

ㅤㅤㅤBut beneath her loathing lay a fear — a fear born from the realization that her life had been snuffed out prematurely. She was only twenty; hardly an adolescent by elven standards, in her supposed prime by human reckoning.

ㅤㅤㅤ Raised in isolation by the Thunderguard Order – an upbringing that Draven played a part in – her world had been one of unyielding rules and suffocating tradition, where the Stormwatch Citadel’s imposing stone walls served as both fortress and prison. From behind these barriers, she yearned to taste the exotic flavors of distant lands, to inhale the heady fragrance of blossoming flowers, and to witness the breathtaking spectacle of a sunset ablaze with hues of gold and crimson.

ㅤㅤㅤ Yet, these simple pleasures, so readily savored by others, remained perpetually beyond her grasp. Thoughts of travel and exploration were passing fancies, her curiosity only mildly satiated by readings contained within the yellowed pages of ancient encyclopaedias; however, knowledge gleaned from these texts was colored by a narrow worldview and prejudices of the Church.

ㅤㅤㅤ Now, here Draven stood, offering her not only a chance at survival but something greater – an eternity to explore, to unravel the mysteries of Faerûn and beyond. Yet, such freedom came at a steep price. Should she agree to the pact, she would be perpetually bound in service to the lich; forever his thrall, freed only by his death or at the eventual end of the realms.

ㅤㅤㅤ Draven – countless centuries the half-elf's senior – had always held sway over her. He possessed an intimate understanding of her being : mind, body, and soul. She was, unquestionably, his most meticulously fashioned creation, the pinnacle of his dark artistry. From the cradle to the grave and long after, he controls her; he was ingrained within her, an integral part of her being, as vital to her continued existence as any organ. Persuading Trinity to agree to the pact — despite her initial reluctance — proved as effortless as the times he deceived her into regarding his abuse as a sacred duty to Talos.

ㅤㅤㅤ And so, a Faustian bargain was struck between the two. From the depths Trinity would surface, resurrected as a dhampir – a creature poised between the worlds of the living and the dead.

ㅤㅤㅤ The Stormwatch Citadel ran red with the blood of the clergy, once under Draven’s command but now marked for slaughter by Trinity’s hand at the lich’s word. His second demand was for her to surrender her body to a harrowing surgery; her chest opened, once-beating heart removed, replaced with a cold, mechanical substitute. It was an artifical heart that Draven assured her was the most effective means of preserving her life without need for constant magical intervention. Unbeknownst to her, Draven had embedded part of his fragmented phylactery within her new heart. This inclusion ensured that Draven’s near-invulnerability, for even if the other fragments of his phylactery were destroyed, he would always have Trinity as a failsafe.

▏concerning being “partially undead”

ㅤㅤㅤ As stipulated in their contract, Trinity was bound to secrecy, compelled to conceal not only their pact but also her undead nature from outsiders. This included not just maintaining silence but also hiding any physical abnormalities that might betray her true nature as more than a mere half-elf. During her transformation, Trinity had developed fangs – a trait common among dhampirs and their vampire cousins – and she took it upon herself to wear down these newly elongated canines. With rudimentary tools scavenged from her surroundings – a rough-hewn stone, a sliver of metal – she painstakingly whittled away at the sharp protrusions, enduring the searing discomfort it brought. For to breach her pact would invite consequences far more agonizing.

ㅤㅤㅤ Try as she may to appear “normal,” there are certain parts of dhampirism that cannot be ignored; one such aspect is their insaitable hunger. All dhampirs are tormented by cravings, whether it be for blood, flesh, or otherwise. Temptation haunts them, and every one knows a thirst slaked only by the living.

ㅤㅤㅤ Trinity sustains herself on the vitality of others, their life essence. Her stunted fangs are blunt, and incapable of breaking skin, therefore she resorts to using magic to siphon the life force of her victims.

ㅤㅤㅤ Feeding is a grim necessity to her survival, one Trintiy abhors. In an attempt to assuage her guilt, she is selective with her prey, deliberately targeting animals or the remains of deceased humans / creatures whose souls have not fully detached from their host. Trinity labels these meals as “ethically sourced” as a way to rationalize her actions and find some semblance of moral justification. In her eyes, it is a small mercy to spare intelligent beings from the hunger that plagues her. Deep down, however, the view of herself as a glutton through and through, gorging herself on something not rightfully hers, persists.