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[Alaundril Do'Rhett]

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Alaundril was never surprised when it came to Humans. Since his stay amongst them, he had made every effort to restrain his old habits. The chaos within him wished to exact its vengeance on each an every one of the empty headed fools. He longed to hear their screams of pain and agony. Longed for them to bow to the influence of the Sirah. The latter he knew was highly unlikely. However, causing pain to this new group of humans that had taken the responsibility of protecting Sossaria could be done without spilling a single drop of blood. The ancient Drow dreaded that, he wished to see these self righteous idiots suffer, wished to see the entire world as they knew it thrown into chaos and war. According to what his son had found out, that wouldn't take much at all. Mistrust was at a high, and it would take very little to tip the scales.

The last member of House Do'Rhett shouldered his magical bow as he walked towards the burnt out remains of what used to be a Syndicate safe house. He easily spotted the skeletal remains of the two humans he had killed a few days before. The fool Jerrick thought what he had stolen from the Drow would be his forever. A pity. This was the time for his kind to take back what was rightfully theirs. What was rightfully his. Alaundril could feel the venomous anger within as he thought of how the humans had squandered away what had made the Sirah so feared centuries ago. What had once been feared and respected had now become nothing more than a band of rowdy thieves and brigands. A perfect example of how the short lived races piss away everything they have that can provide endless opportunity. There were far too many ready to boldly charge off on some blind crusade. Those fools would meet the sting of the Sirah.

His mind wandered through his past 8 centuries of life. The old Drow recalled the fall of his own House. House Do'Rhett. The only choice left for the then young Alaundril was to find his own path in Sossaria. He chose the path of chaos. Leaving behind the Matriarchy of his homeland. He had long thought that the females were far to brutal, far to impatient for results. This is what had made Alaundril different than his brethren, he sought influence and infiltration as a far better method of reaching his goals. What was worse than an enemy that you couldn't see? Alaundril held reign over the Syndicate for many centuries before he had me the elf woman who would sire his son. The drow spit on the burnt and charred ground at the thought. He had damned Drayden to a life of a half breed. Something that he had recently undone through a secret ceremony known only by the Sirah. His son was now just as much drow as he. He was no longer weak and tainted by the surface.

It was a scheme that Alaundril had planned for decades, so he may come back to the surface. He looked at the charred corpses on the ground again. "You were useful for a while Mr. Stark. But I'm afraid I'm done with you....sleep with Chaos." With that the old Drow stepped onto his remains, hearing them crunch beneath his booted feet. The Scorpion had awakened. He felt it within his chest, a strange warmth almost as if chaos was within him, guiding him. With a wicked grin he walked from the burnt out house and made his way into the forests. The Scorpion of the Sirah had been awakened. There were many Drow in Sossaria, perhaps they all felt its calling as he had. It was time to find these native Drow that had been laying low for so long. They lacked that....nastiness of the Faerunian females he had seen recently. Something was different between the two breeds, seperated by a world.
But they too would serve a purpose in his plan.

Already he had gathered a few Drow to his cause, but he would not limit himself to just that. Chaos was borne of the trash of the world. So he would travel and find these "undesirable" folk. They too would be an effective tool at implementing confusion and chaos into those of the surface. The old way would be preserved, the name "Sirah" would never be spoken aloud for fear of death. These humans soon would have a name to call Alaundril's syndicate....but nothing was worse than an evil that couldn't be named....