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[Alaundril Do'Rhett]

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The underdark. A place few will dare to go. That do fall victim to the terrors beneath the earth. The magic within this place was what blanketed this ancient drow. He had died several centuries ago, murdered out of hatred.

Thus, when the winds of magic began to run awry more recently, Alaundril had come out of his slumber. The few moments of his former life had flashed vividly into his mind...

He had just come in from a gathering of minds in Wind. The seas were calm, though a storm was brewing to the west. His wife and son were there...greeting him with loving arms.
Their love that had caused both Alaundril of House Do'Rhett and Calian of House Calamyr to be exiled from their homelands, coming here to this small island outside of Wind. It was here that he had built his home, sired a son, and continued his study of the magical arts.

That was all gone now.

Whisked away in a blur of hatred and fear.

The ancient Drow blinked his eyes open for the first time in nearly 300 years. Dust had gathered on his once fine clothing. Now it was nothing more than rags. Dark...I must be inside my mausoleum..
He pushed hard in front of him. And the stone face to the tomb fell outward, shattering on the floor 5 feet below him.

Alaundril stepped down gently...moving into the center of the chamber. He wasn't sure what these were, he had found them when building a wine cellar. After determining he was alone in the room he moved up the narrow spiral staircase, ascending into the remains of his home.

Spintered wood, rock that had once been wall and bits of furniture were all that remained of his once majestic estate. He could smell the magic in the air. The air still tingled from the chaos that rained from the skies here. The ground was scorched heavily in the center of where it once stood proudly. The dirt had turned to glass at some parts, large circular sheets of glass.

Alaundril spent the next few hours scavenging what he could. He found a set of clothing that wasn't totally destroyed. A simple weapon and some reagents. Then set off on his way, begining it with a trip to Vesper.

[Alaundril Do'Rhett]

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Rain fell in sheets that night, soaking Alaundril to the bone. Luckily he had found an inn on the city streets of Vesper with a candle still in the window, one by the docks. It was frequented by the sailors and pirates. A perfect setting, the drow thought as he walked into the warm, smoked filled room. Lightning flashed outside, cutting through the inky black night. This place will do, these fools will know something of the one I seek, perhaps of this....Humanis and their leader.

The drow's eyes we're tinged with a shade of red in this dim light. Though most were too drunk to notice this beneath the hood of his soaked black cloak. He quickly made his way to the back of the room, waving a barmaid towards where he intended to sit. "Mulled wine, and as much food as you can carry on those pathetically skinny arms wench. And be hasty, I have no time for your bantering and whining, human girl."

The way Alaundril had said human, it caused him to smile as he sank down into his seat. These humans were all meant to service the true race of the elves. Though he believed that the drow were those who would lead the fey kind to victory. He doubted that his surface cousins would be so quick to follow, so they would be handled accordingly. The more blood that spilled the better, after all, he had alot of catching up to do, it had to have been a few centuries that he was locked away.

Nearly 20 minutes later, the barmaid came with another carrying two trays full of freshly roasted meats, hunks of bread and cheese and a bowl of fruit. Before him a pitcher of spiced mulled wine was set before him. At last, I must eat. You could not wage war on an empty stomach.