Vhunthriam [VUNE-three-ahm] is of about average height for a drow male, standing 5'4". His build too is quite common, slender and graceful beyond what any human could hope to attain. His attire though is bit less conventional, though not so far out there as some of his companions. A silver circlet sits atop his brow, the pale metal contrasting nicely against the ebon skin of his face, the rear half blending nearly invisibly with the silvery locks he has carefully interwoven along the rings length. His face is quite pleasant to look upon, sharing the grace of his figure and always appearing jovial and unthreatening. Around his neck is tied a small velvet red ascot about an inch in width. Just below that rises the high collar or his immaculately designed long sleeved silken shirt, the depth of its blackness reflecting that of his skin. Throughout the fabric of his shirt winds a few threads of deepest crimson, forming what appear to be arcane symbols. Beneath the shirt lies his chain mesh armor, nearly invisible for it's lightness and perfect fit. At his cuffs the shirt flows into bright red ruffles, nearly concealing his hands. A single silver band adorns his right ring finger, the significance of which is known by none . . . probably. His trousers and boots are each of the softest black leather, hugging his form in a way that should restrict movement but doesn't seem to bother him in the least.
The following is an excerpt from a conversation Vhunthriam had with one of the church's latest converts.
"I'm told there is a reason for the rather slim chance of any given drow we might happen to meet being a follower of our dear Dark Lady. Countless millennia under the manipulative and domineering hand of the Spider Queen has erased the natural ability, surface races are so proud of, of instinctively knowing if an action is right or wrong. A conscience or somesuch. I'm told the lack of such is a considerable disadvantage to any of our dark kin who wish to be "decent folk." And I'm told that we must struggle daily to teach ourselves this inherent difference between right and wrong.
Well my newfound friend, I have a secret for you. One you won't hear from our lovely priestesses, who will tell you many things from their divine wisdom. This trait of ours is not a drawback, not an unfortunate side effect of a lack of sunlight. It is a blessing. If we have a goal, we can do whatever it takes to accomplish that goal. A lie can save a life. A well placed drop of poison, countless lives. Truly, is the anything nobler than to be a dark elf in the service of something 'right?'"