In the beginning, there was darkness. It was, after all, the Underdark. We were always on the run–my parents and I. You see, they had fallen out of their queen’s favor because they couldn’t have children of their own. There were always spiders chasing us. Always. Did I mention my first parents were drow? Anyway, that was the beginning of my life–running, fighting, darkness. I eventually had enough and ran away, went topside. Didn’t expect much. Especially since I only spoke Undercommon. Turned out, I understood Common and Elven. That was how I pieced together I was half human, half elf. That, and that’s what everyone told me I was. The developing years rendered me in no better shape than when I was with the drow couple. I bounced from home to home, place to place, staying with whoever would take me in. The families weren’t the problem–I was. I became rather aggressive over the years. Often hurting the other kids. Then I’d be sent away. Oh, and everyone was scared of my bright silver eyes. I always liked my eyes. Mainly because I could freak people out. There was this one time I set up a–okay, okay, back on topic. I never meant to hurt anybody. It was just, I felt like there was a force inside me. I always felt the darkness. Still do. I figured it was because I was raised by drow. Now, I’m not so sure. I mean, I don’t have any drow blood in me. You see, I get very angry very quickly. Many times, abnormally so. And when I start to get beyond control, my scars on my chest plate start glowing and burning. First time it happened, I thought I was going to die. It scared the life out of me. I became accustomed to it as I grew. When I was old enough to realize I could survive on my own, I took that chance and ran. Went to a town never been to before. Started begging, stealing, the lot. Whatever I could do to make it to the next day. Eventually took on teaching myself how to fight. I joined underground fist battles, trying my hand and winning some coins. Got beat more times than I’d like to admit, but I learned quickly. Developed my own style. It also turned out I had a natural knack for weaponsmithing. Made a pair of short swords and added them to my attire. Also acquired sweet red and black leather armor. That compliments my deeply rich red hair quite nicely, I must say. As I went about my adventures, I got called many things–thief, beggar, stray, waif, demon-girl, half-blood, the list goes on. I was mostly called a rogue. I remember swiping some bread, and this old lady screeched, “Stop stealing our life, rogue!” Her scream was hilarious. But she called me rogue as if it was my name. I mulled it over for a bit. It fit, had a nice ring to it. Besides, I never liked any of the names my foster families had ever given to me. Don’t even remember them. So I became Rogue.
But that became my life. Stealing, running, fighting. Surviving. Occasionally, something…weird would happen. I’d be fighting somebody intensely, get pushed past my limits, and a very tiny voice in my head would call upon something. My scars start glowing and burning, then! Darkness. I black out. It’s happened about, oh, four or five times. Here’s the weird part. The opponent would be gone. Vanished. Poof. No trace, no nothing. And I’d be completely unscathed except for the scars dully aching. No cuts, slashes, bruises, nothing. Not even from the previous battle. And I’d still have everything on my person. Weird, right? After the first time that happened, rumors spread. That I turned people into pure darkness. Or incinerated them or something. And after the first time, I completely went off on my own. Took shelter in the forests and survived off the land. Helps being part elf. I try to stay away from people because, frankly, I don’t know what happens when that happens. I’m kinda scared to find out. But anyway, that’s pretty much my life so far. As far as personal details go, I’m a female half human, half elf, as previously stated. I have bright silver eyes. As previously stated. My hair is deep red–as previously stated–and falls to my lower back, with a black streak like a silvermark by my face and jagged, black ends. I stand 5’8′, weigh 120 pounds, and my skin is slightly tan from being outside all the time. And I also have the scars right underneath my collar bone. One goes horizontally in a rather jagged fashion, while the other is a straight vertical line down the middle. Annnnd…that’s pretty much it. Think I covered everything. So. Anything else you need to know?