[Bloodline]: Half-Drow
[Age]: 45, due to elf-blood she looks in her early 30's.
[Height]: 5'10" (178cm)
[Hair Colour]: Ash
[Eye Colour]: Luminous Red
[Build]: Curvaceous, Strong
[Sex]: Penis

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Wavy, ashen hair tumbles down over her head, framing cheekbones as low bangs dip to almost shade the crimson lustre of severe almond shaped eyes. The rest cascades down over her shoulders in wavy, silky tresses.
   Long, dark lashes sink over those carmine pools on occasion, or sit in a smouldering half-lidded expression of suspicion. A slender nose, high-cheekbones and full soft lips complete a mask of natural dark elven beauty. Yet with softer, rounder angles.

Her frame is tall for one of drow lineage, and her build betrays her mixed blood with the mere glance of an eye. There is little ancient grace here. It surges, even when it whispers. She is deft, rather than timeless.
Sculpted shoulders, and well developed arms hint at a physical profession; even as the buxom swell of her chest piques a matronly yearning. The heavy shelf of tit-flesh is usually contained beneath straps and layers - but lurks like a trapdoor spider. Waiting to smother an unsuspecting lover.
A stomach tight with muscle contrasts beneath, abdominal muscle etched against her jet skin. Sweeping into a cinch until it blossoms out into broad, feminine hips. Completing the hourglass shape, a callipygian backside dips and wanes with every step - toned and juicy. Coaxing the eye towards long and well conditioned legs that propel her forth.

[A Gift Given, A Price Paid]:

When disrobed it would be difficult to miss the burnt mark scarred onto her stomach, as if someone had poured dark ichor into the wound when it was still fresh. Positioned above her navel it takes the form of a crude Taurus symbol - jagged and barbed - one of the many dedications to Baphomet, The Horned King. Below this vile symbol, dark blood vessels are visible beneath the surface of the skin. Plunging like roots from a foul source which flow down towards the apex of her thighs.

Much to the dismay of all involved these dark vessels seem to terminate at the root of a bestial, equine sheath. A pair of grapefruit sized testicles ache; swollen tightly in the dark flesh. When the meat of the shaft emerges from it's fleshy prison, the wrist thick endowment swells to a size suitable for the four-legged beast it should be sprouting from.

[Lore 30+]: Drow often offer half-blooded offspring to demonic pacts, to secure the service of powerful fiends. This woman is inevitably bound for the wretched corridors of The Endless Maze. Her twisted flesh a mark of the promised sacrifice granted by The Prince of Beasts.

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[Gear]:
¤ Nyvareth often wears a form-fitting suit of Displayer Beast Leather. The areas which cover her vitals are enforced with Umberhulk chitin plates. The armour woefully biased towards mobility; but provides enough defence between chitin, adamantine arm-guards and enchantments to do it's job. Her ass is too fat for it however, which she seems in no hurry to fix.

¤ She wears a collection of jewellery; some of which are likely enchanted. Rings, pendant, piercings.

¤ She likes her swords like she likes her women; sharp and curvy. With a wicked purpose.

[Dumb Rumours]:
¤ Nyvareth has 'Lolth's Meat' tattooed above her junk. She's classy like that.

¤ She is available for hire and only accepts payment in gold, gems, or magical arcana. Business, is business.

¤ She has a weakness for demure women, with kissable lips.

¤ Nyvareth likes men who'd smooch back-sack. She won't put a crown on your head, King. Just nuts.

¤ She once wrote a book of salacious poems; possession of this embarrassing volume may have unforeseen consequences.

¤ Nyvareth is seeking materials, and information on lower planes rituals.

¤ She sings in the shower, tunelessly without an ounce of shame.

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[Some ERP Favourites]: Size Queens, Big Butts, Tasty Dicks, Ball Worship, Oral Fixation, Lurid Descriptors, Muscled Partners, Soft Beauties, Hair-pulling, Horn Snapping, Leaving Fuckmarks, Perfuming You With Her Scent, Torn Clothes, Rutting, Rimming, Stomach Bulging, Massive Loads, Breathless Moans, Fear Of Spiders That Wait.

[Reds]: Poop, Gore, Vore, Infantilism.