[img=23039]AyleHeader[/img][i][indent]Professional Fertility Priestess / Professionally Fertile Priestess[/indent][/i]
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[collapse=Origin]Ayle, full name Ayle'kesi'vreya, was the lesser daughter of noble House Vrey, a family of drow nobility of minor significance. Lesser both in age and apparent potential, she was a disappointment for much of her life, choosing to serve as a priestess only reluctantly and without the enthusiasm and vigor expected of a daughter of the nobility. Though this was tolerated, never greater was her perceived failure than when she renounced the the traditional deity of her kind, choosing instead to worship the Mother of Monsters.

While serving a goddess was respectable, a deity of fertility, madness, and monsters did not quite bring the respect her family hoped for. She was suffered briefly for the utility her powers over fertility brought, something always useful to the rarely-fecund drow. Eventually, though, an elder sister rose to prominence in the house, and either from desire to consolidate her power or distaste for Ayle's indiscretions, Ayle'kesi'vreya found herself banished and exiled.

Vreya, though, was not particularly distraught. With her family left behind, there was no one to frown on her trysts, condemn her fantasies, or argue with the directions of her goddess. She was free to seek out the strange, the aberrant, to breed such monstrosities as could only be conceived by her dark goddess. Other races, monsters, animals... Anything male could help her in her divine mission, and though she could still feel both acutely, neither suffering nor shame would halt her service. [/collapse]

[collapse=Goals]Ayle'kesi finds herself traveling, frequently, and alone, often. Between her quest to seek out the unsavory and savage, and other people's usual reactions to her... [i]trysts[/i], she rarely finds the time to settle down or make friends. Though she roams, and occasionally quests for artifacts of power in her goddess's name, she is not what one might call a hardened adventurer. Possessing of some modest but unremarkable skill at arms, she is surpassed by most with any true expertise. Though capable of some magic, little of it could be applied with hostility; mostly, it focuses on fertility, pregnancy, and the occasional spell to help her survive the unions she undertakes in the name of her deity. When outmatched in combat, she frequently falls back on other methods to secure her survival.

[collapse=Switch]Beyond her own divine service, however, she has one other vocation; proselytizing. Not an easy task at all, considering what her oblations consist of, she is still tasked with bringing the Mother of Monster's will to other women, or rather, them to Her. Some are ready to hear it. Some... need a little convincing. Communion through carnal acts, and tantric rituals, often with savage monsters or even animals, can be a little daunting at first. When the call must be answered though, Ayle can be an able, if not particularly kind, teacher. Usually with assistance from something decidedly more male than her, she now and then has occasion to teach a comely peasant daughter, an unfortunate lady adventurer, overly open-minded fellow priestess, or even a decadent noble the practice and pleasure of a perverse union, primal sacrament, and half-bred spawn. Some she can talk and tease into trying such deviant behavior- for others, she keeps a small bundle of shackles, ropes, gags, and a small riding crop at the bottom of her pack, and is more than capable of summoning a suitable 'husband' for an aspiring initiate.
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[collapse=Description]
Ayle stands just a hair on the short side for her race, which leaves her modestly tall, but not a terrifically imposing sight. Jet-black skin, smooth and dark, and though occasionally she options to dye it this or that color, her hair is a flawless white in its natural state. She gets bored of this and that, but always winds up returning it to its natural color as favor for a particular other waxes or wanes. Whatever the case, it's long, and she often keeps it braided for simplicity. Her eyes are a ruby red, similar to most drow. Here, however, her traits begin to diverge from the baseline of her race.

Though not quite [i]impossibly[/i] so, her hips would be considered wide and curvaceous on a human, let alone a drow- Likewise, her breasts are heavier than one would tend to expect of elves, significantly so; while she'd never be mistaken for pregnant, one might be forgiven for expecting her to nursing. And that's when she [i]isn't[/i] carrying a bellyful of seed or a fresh gift from her Goddess. Her ears, tongue, and nipples are pierced; the tongue bearing a vertical silver bar most of the way along its length, visible whens he speaks, and slim silver rings hanging from her nipples. If she isn't wearing underclothes, sometimes they catch the light in the way that clothing shouldn't, though [i]usually[/i] they can't be identified when she's dressed.

As a priestess, her nominal mode of dress involves simple white robes. As a drow, her ego allows nothing less than the finest cloths, of the finest cuts- an affectation that causes her extensive trouble, given her frequently wide-ranging travels. Though of simple nature, sometimes worn with underclothes, spider-silk is her preferred fabric and her preferred cut an airy one, one that allows for plenty of circulation, stretches well, and can be quickly and easily removed even without hands. Some find her priestess robes needn't even be removed- though she does serve up a tongue-lashing for those who stain or ruin her extravagant clothing. Others manage to escape such excoriation by dint of leaving her far too distracted, disoriented, satisfied, or simply exhausted, to notice or lodge objection. Still, some of her partners simply don't pay attention to, or understand such complaints- which is not to say she's a poor communicator! She also tends to like loose hems, and sometimes even loose sleeves, for the added [i]swish[/i]. A hat, hood, or veil are usually used to protect her sensitive eyes from bright lights, when she ranges across the surface world. Despite being fond of high heels (they turn her slightly-above-average-for-a-drow height into downright-imposing-for-a-drow,) she is practical enough to save them for special occasions, or civilized terrain.

Frequently, she radiates an aura of moderate magic, usually the amalgamation of a number of sources. The cantrips she uses to dye her hair, the blessed fertility that seems to ever grace her, the aftereffects of a particularly magical liaison, the gentle glow of particularly magical [i]progeny[/i] she might be carrying, and only [i]then[/i] the magical jewelry, trinkets, and tchotchkes that any adventurer can produce a handful of. Finally, the book that is usually seen in her hands, pack, or upon her hip, also radiates a fairly serious aura of enchantment, albeit not a threatening one.[/collapse]


[hr][collapse=Slutbook]
With her since before leaving the underdark, Ayle'kesi'vreya's journal is a broad, thin tome with royal purple ribbon bookmark. Legible only to her, she uses it for a variety of purposes- Theological speculation, ambitions, achievements. The former and the middle are often intertwined as she is a devout servant of her Goddess, always seeking to divine and execute Her will. The latter is often a result of those. Though it can go weeks at a time without an entry, or have almost obsessive documentation of a particular ritual, suitor, pregnancy, or fantasy. The strangest feature though- aside from a drow confiding honestly anywhere- is that sometimes the book [i]writes back[/i] to her. Comments appear in the margin in a hand not her own, lewd suggestions between two of her previous entries, or she turns to write on the next page only to find it already filled. Other times, she's opened it to record some experience and found it already done- not always in her own hand.

For whatever reason, Ayle has not only learned to live with this, but even (usually) enjoy these oddities. At times, these strange occurrences have provided what she earnestly believes to be divine inspiration. (Some even suggest that the book was the source by which the Mother of Monsters first made her will known to a much younger Ayle.) Whatever the case, she usually reads them with dispassion and provides curt responses to the unseen intelligence(s?) behind them.... though they have, on occasion, managed to ruffle her feathers severely. She was once asked why she looked so outraged, seemed to be blushing even, when reading her own journal.

OOC: Say hi, brag about your conquest, tease, or bait with a new idea you'd like to try~ That's what it's there for!
And feel free to drop me a line and let me know which you thought was best [sub]or what needs the most work![/sub]
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