Portrait libraryOpal
Drow / Elestree sword dancer
Submitted character story
Defining moment:
The moon hung low over the forest, silver light filtering through the ancient pines.
It should have been a beautiful night.
Opal laughed as she followed behind her younger brother, who darted between the trees with far too much confidence for someone barely old enough to hold a wooden practice sword.
“You’ll scare the owlbears away before we ever see one,” she called.
“I’d win,” he shouted back.
Her father snorted. “You’d trip over your own boots.”
Their mother laughed beside him, the sound warm enough to chase away the evening chill.
For once…
There were no monsters.
No prejudice.
No whispers about surface drow.
Just family.
Just home.
The caravan had stopped beside an old shrine to Eilistraee, where dancers had once offered songs beneath the moon. Her mother insisted they spend the night there.
“It is sacred ground,” she’d said. “No better place to thank the Dark Maiden.”
Dinner had been simple.
Stories had been plentiful.
Her father told the same exaggerated tale about wrestling a bugbear for the hundredth time.
Her brother interrupted every few sentences to insist that next year, he would be strong enough to do it instead.
Opal rolled her eyes.
Her mother smiled.
Everything felt… safe.
⸻
She awoke to screaming.
Not frightened screams.
Agonized ones.
The scent hit first.
Smoke.
Blood.
Burning canvas.
Her eyes snapped open as orange fire consumed the night sky.
“No…”
She scrambled from her bedroll just as an arrow slammed into the wagon behind her.
Another buried itself inches from her feet.
“Opal!”
Her father’s voice.
She ran.
Steel flashed into her hands on instinct.
A prayer spilled from her lips.
Moonlight answered.
Silver radiance wrapped around her blade.
Her oath still held.
For now.
Bandits.
Dozens of them.
Some wore masks.
Others carried torches.
A few weren’t even interested in stealing.
They simply wanted the “drow filth” dead.
She crashed into the first attacker.
Her sword danced.
One fell.
Then another.
She wasn’t graceful.
Not tonight.
She was desperate.
“Mom!”
A scream.
Her brother.
She spun.
Too late.
One of the raiders drove a spear straight through her father’s chest.
Everything stopped.
Her father looked at her.
Not afraid.
Only sad.
“Protect…”
The word never finished.
He collapsed.
“DAD!”
She charged.
Magic exploded from her hands.
Moonfire erupted through the clearing.
Several attackers were thrown backward.
One never stood again.
Another screamed as radiant light consumed him.
Still…
There were too many.
She reached her mother just in time to catch her as she fell.
Warm blood soaked through Opal’s hands.
Her mother smiled despite the pain.
“Little moon…”
“No.”
“You have to keep going.”
“No.”
“You dance… remember?”
Tears blurred Opal’s vision.
“Heal,” she whispered desperately, laying glowing hands over the wound.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Why wasn’t it working?
“Eilistraee…” she begged. “Please.”
Her magic flickered.
Then vanished.
Not because the goddess had abandoned her.
Because the wound was beyond even divine healing.
“No, no, no…”
Her mother’s fingers brushed Opal’s cheek.
“You were always meant… for more than vengeance.”
The hand fell.
Silence.
Something inside Opal cracked.
⸻
The battle continued around her.
She barely heard it.
Barely saw it.
She only noticed when her brother stumbled toward her.
Covered in blood.
Not his own.
“I… I’m scared.”
She threw her arms around him.
“It’s alright.”
It wasn’t.
Another arrow.
She never even saw who fired it.
Her brother gasped.
His body jerked in her embrace.
Blood bloomed across his tunic.
“No…”
He looked at her with wide, frightened eyes.
“It hurts…”
“I know.”
“Don’t let go.”
“I won’t.”
He took one shaky breath.
Then another.
Then none at all.
Opal remained there long after the fighting ended.
Holding him.
Unable to move.
Unable to cry.
The moon climbed higher.
Its pale light bathed the clearing in silver.
Bodies surrounded her.
Family.
Friends.
Neighbors.
The shrine stood untouched.
As though the gods themselves refused to witness what had happened.
Archetype: You're the The Moonlit Vow. She carries the weight of the fallen in every calculated step forward.
Personality: Running from something